Is There Truly Life After Death?
by SeaSaw
Summary: A young woman finds that her life is worth more to a stranger then it has been to herself and now she must learn to "live" after her "death". DISCLAIMER: I do not own Saw, sadly. :D Please rate and review!
1. The Gift of Life

_Dear agony, just let go of me. Suffer slowly. Is this the way it's gotta be? Don't bury me, faceless enemy. I'm so sorry. Is this the way it's gotta be? Dear agony. Leave me alone, god let me go. I'm blue and cold, black sky will burn. Love pull me down, hate lift me up. Just turn around, there's nothing left. Somewhere far beyond this world I feel nothing anymore._

You could have called her 'average' because for the most part there was nothing unique or special about her besides her individual differences that separated her from the masses. Every day was the same for her; wake up in the morning and get ready for work, ensure the iPod had the proper sequence of songs for the journey ahead, a train ride downtown, a block to walk through what could have been deemed one of the prettiest parts of downtown, and then 9 hours of the day would be spent at work before she would leave around 7 to start the journey back home. Once she was back home, every night like it was a necessary part of her routine she would pop just enough sleeping pills to put her into a sort of coma till the next day came.

So if she was so average, why did she find it necessary to bury herself in a drug induced sense of delusion? This wasn't exactly what an 'average' person did in the evenings when they returned home from a long day of work. Perhaps it had to do with her inability to overcome the challenges that always reared their ugly head at the most inopportune times. She had the worst luck in the world with relationships ; time after time she picked the wrong men to trust and even at times the wrong women, constantly being let down. To top it off she had not only lost her father years ago, but just recently her mother's life became nothing more than a statistic to the individual responsible for robbing her in a mall parking lot. How could life be so unappreciated by so many people in the world? Emotionally, at this point in her life, she was completely cold and oblivious to any sensation that could possibly cause her to tear up. She cried so many nights over so many losses in her life that she decided the easiest way to handle it was to simply shut the world out.

Now she was still capable of developing friendships, laughing at jokes, and appearing normal to everyone around her, but when she was alone she immersed herself in her misery. It certainly wasn't any way to live. It had been 8 years of this emotionless state of mind she had been in and it seemed to work out well for her, regardless of how inconvenient it was for others.

Today was like every other day, the same routine, the same conversations, the same feelings…or was it? She had no idea how easily one day could change her entire life but something very disturbing was about to upset the delicate balance of her existence. Michelle sipped the last bit of what remained in her Monster energy drink before crinkling the can and tossing it in the trash, ensuring that was where it landed considering her displeasure with people who had no regard of disposal of their trash in regards to the environment; point in case, the plastic bag drifting lazily down the sidewalk. Work was the same routine over again, the same customers, the same frustrations so after work, for the first time in a very long time, she decided to entertain the idea of going out with co-workers for a few drinks.

As everyone walked together down the sidewalk to Wilson's she suddenly felt very left out. Everyone chatted about the day, their lives, marriages, kids; christ who was she kidding? She couldn't match up to their happiness and frankly she had gotten so used to her life she really didn't want to. Michelle stopped briefly to grab a random Styrofoam cup resting on the sidewalk to throw it away, however when she looked up everyone had already turned the corner "Fantastic. Thanks guys." Sighing deeply, she hurried to the trash can to throw away the cup and as she rushed around the corner she ended up running directly into some innocent man wandering down it. Trying to regain her balance, she grabbed his arms to steady herself, only to realize he was holding onto her himself as if to assist. She finally glanced up at him to find eyes that were literally peering into her soul and gave her chills; strange. Moving back from him, she sort of brushed at her sleeves "I'm so sorry about that." "It's no problem, really Michelle." The mention of her name sent chills down her spine and she eyed him suspiciously, noting that it was getting very dark very quickly and she personally didn't want to be roaming into Wilson's alone late at night. "Anyway, I don't know who the fuck you are, but I gotta get going." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face before brushing past him as she walked away but the minute she walked past the alley on the left-hand side just behind him, someone or something grabbed her and yanked her into the darkness. The last thing she remembered was screaming before a hand came over her mouth and everything around her went dark with the cold feeling of the wet street beneath her creeping into the last bit of consciousness she had.


	2. Feel What I Feel

Waking up laying in the street is rather disturbing, especially with no real knowledge of how you ended up laying there but waking up in pitch black darkness with nothing but some strange buzzing in your ears and the sensation of cold water dripping down your face is even worse. She was groggy and could feel a biting pain coursing through her abdomen. She tried to tilt her head back, but instead cracked it on something hard behind her and winced, her head dropping down once again. When she tried to move her arms she couldn't in any way and the same applied to her legs; she felt pressure on her ankles and her wrists. Panic wasn't able to set in just yet as she was completely unable to decipher where she was at the moment and what was happening. As if on cue with her state of consciousness, one single bright light buzzed on, temporarily blinding her until her vision could adjust to the change in lighting. It was in that brief moment that a small television sitting in the middle of the room buzzed on, the gritty screen giving way to an eerie looking puppet that made her skin crawl.

"Hello Michelle. You don't know me but I most certainly know you. Through our various interactions I've come to discover the kind of person you are: one who pities themselves but will not allow the sympathy from others, who wastes their life worrying about what has happened instead of living for what is. Through your life you've been let down by others, treated as if you were nothing, and subsequently you have done the same to those who wish to be part of your life now. For years you've lived in a world where you refuse to trust anyone and let them in so that they may offer you selfless friendship and guidance. Your father and mother's deaths were not your fault yet you swallow pills every night to block out the dreams and memories you have, living your day to day life in the past. Well tonight you'll be given a chance to show that you appreciate the life you've been given. There are chains binding your wrists and ankles to the metal cross you are on – a symbol of your self crucifixion. Also through your stomach is a metal hook, but don't worry, it's not puncturing any vital organs. You are in a glass box, much like the box you place around yourself to protect you from the affections of others. You have 60 seconds to find a way to stop the water from flowing into the box and drowning you. From the pipe a key will drop that can unlock the chains that bind you and give you an opportunity to survive. However if you fail to find a way to grab the key and unlock the chains, when the 60 second timer goes off not only will you be at risk for drowning as the water will be above your head, but the metal hook through your stomach will retract, ripping out your insides. Live or die, make your choice."

"HOLY SHIT! What the fuck is this?! You sick mother fucker who are you!?!" Her screams went completely unheard, she was sure of it considering the sound of timer clicking on and the sudden rush of ice cold water on her head. She gasped at the surprise of the temperature as the words from the tape rushed through her mind. Did she really want to die like this? Wouldn't she have to mutilate herself in order to catch the key – wait…catch the key, how on earth was that possible, her wrists were chained down! She started to pull and struggle with the chains as the water continued to pour into the box, realizing that she would have to cause herself pain in order to survive. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before pulling hard at the chain, focusing on the bones in her thumb and pulling against them so hard that surely they would end up breaking or she'd tear all the skin off her hand just trying to get it out. Each movement was more painful than the last and her screams continued at a deafening decibel. Panic set in but the moment of truth was surviving this "trap" and she couldn't allow panic to take complete and total hold of her; she had to think, she had to think quickly. Finally she felt and heard the sickening snap of the bones in her thumb and with a forceful yank, she pulled one hand free of the chains. At that moment the water in the box filled to her mouth and she had to take one last breath before holding it. She heard a strange clinking sound in the pipe above her head and the key dropped into the tank. With her mangled hand she frantically grabbed for the key, agonizing pain setting in her stomach and she almost lost the key to the bottom of the tank. She could hardly use her hand, she was in so much pain, but there were only 15 seconds left on the timer and she had to unlock the chains. She fumbled around with the key, her hand shaking and with her losing oxygen quickly, she managed to unlock the chain on her wrist; now was the real challenge, her ankles. She had to bend with the metal hook through her stomach and the pain was unbearable. She felt like throwing up, opening her mouth and screaming, but none of those things would help; she'd drown before she ever finished. With shaky hands she finally unlocked the chains around her ankles and now the challenge was getting off the hook. Very slowly yet at a quickened pace all the same, she pulled away from the hook. 5…4…3…there wasn't much time left and she quickly shoved off from the metal cross, trying to get to the surface, but the pain of the hook being removed was so unbearable that she sank to the bottom of the tank. 1…she hit the bottom of the tank, felt a strange suction as the water around her swirled and receded and with her last gasp, fell unconscious all over again.

It would be hours before she would return to the world of the waking and you could also say return to the world of the living for she might as well been dead at this rate; she felt like dying. The agonizing pain in her stomach got worse after she woke up ever so slightly to try and push herself up off the bottom of the tank. By that time everything was a blur; she was freezing from the water, she was bleeding on a consistent and slow basis, and there was an unmistakable ringing in her ears. She had reached up to the front of the tank, her hand soaked in blood plastering to the glass, only to slide down and the process to be repeated again. When she collapsed into the bottom of the tank once again, it looked as though she had died, handprints of blood streaming down the glass and a puddle soaking her clothing and the drain as well. She was not aware of the front of the tank swinging open and the strange hands that pulled her out onto the floor. While she lay there, splayed out as they had placed her, the individual in the room placed two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse and when satisfied with the information gathered from such an action, they gathered her up into their arms and left the room, shutting the heavy metallic door behind them.


	3. I Want to Play a Game

She could barely hear someone buzzing around where she was, their feet sort of shuffling around in the room. She was laying on a soft surface which she could only figure to be some sort of bed and she wasn't soaking wet and covered in her own blood. She tried to shift only to feel the sting and agony in her abdomen, gasping ever so slightly. In her barely conscious state she very slowly reached towards her abdomen feeling a soft fabric not coated in blood laying against her skin. Under it she could feel a bandage of sorts, but she was too tired to really look. Overly large sweat pants covered her legs and the fabric she came to realize was a shirt much to big to even fit her properly. She tried to talk but all that came out was a groan, one that sounded pained and weak, and as she tried to push herself up, she felt a hand touch the small of her back in an attempt to keep her still "Shhh. Rest now. You've had a long day, we can talk more about this when you get your strength back." Fear washed over her, her body tensed, and if it didn't hurt as much as it did, she would shot up into a sitting position. She tried to roll away from whomever it was touching her, only to cringe and bury her face in the pillow in pain. "I told you to rest. Now,_ rest_." The voice was not nearly as soothing and monotone as before, it was much more demanding and harsh and she opted to do what was asked of her if only for the sake of making it out of here alive. The man behind the voice gently pushed a piece of hair out from her face before sliding a chair up to the side of the bed and taking hold of her hand that had the broken thumb on it; the thumb she mangled in order to save herself from dying a horrifying death. The hands holding hers felt leathery and rough, as if they had been used repeatedly around heavy equipment "I think the greatest damage you did was to your skin. You should have focused on breaking your thumb to pull your hand free and not twisting violently." The sting of the alcohol that was poured on her hand was enough to illicit a agonized groan and then having her thumb moved around into the correct position for it to heal before what felt like a splint was placed on it. This entire time all she saw were the hands working on her own, wrapping it up; she was too afraid to see the face behind the man who was clearly responsible for all of this.

Finally she looked up into those same piercing eyes she saw on the sidewalk but this time they were softer. Her eyes widened and she felt the tears creep up, she tried to swallow the dry lump in her throat and squeaked out a sound much akin to fear. The gentle smile wasn't enough to quell the undeniable horror and even though this man clearly was caring for her he had to have been the one responsible for her involvement in his so called sick fucking "game". "…oh god…you're…you're…oh god, you're fucking Jigsaw…get away from me!" She couldn't quite well jump up and run and clearly his grip on her wrist let her know he wasn't willing to let her go just yet. He simply smiled and shook his head slowly, regarding her behavior as simply delirium from her ordeal and perhaps shock from the sudden realization of where she was. "Easy now. I am the man the media calls Jigsaw, but you more than likely remember me as John Kramer."

Reality sunk in – she did know him simply from her job at the medical supply company. He came in from time to time to get medical supplies with a young woman with long midnight dark hair. She remembered their faces and even the times when John would come in alone and **always** requested to speak with her and have her assist him in his purchases. Sometimes they would end up in conversations about life, about her life, and eventually she got comfortable enough with the charismatic customer to talk to him about when her father and mother died. She never understood why she felt so compelled to actually hold conversations with him, mostly about things she never even spoke to her psychiatrist about.

"J-J-John? Wait…I don't understand…what the fuck did I ever do to you!?" In her frantic state of emotional turmoil, she jerked her body in an attempt to sit up and only found that she could not move without the pain shooting through her body. John's hand was quickly on her shoulder, pushing her back down into more a resting position and holding her there "I said for you to rest. Do we need to go over the rules again? I won't hesitate to prove to you that I'm serious again if I have to. Now, do as I say." The demanding nature of his tone, the way he stood up and pushed the chair off to the side, and basically finished his conversation with her right then and there. Her head fell back on the pillow and she found herself starting to weep silently to herself; or what was as silent as she could possibly be. She raised her hands to her face and covered it, the erratic rise and fall of her chest was a clear indicator to John that she was having the first of what would more than likely be many emotional breakdowns before she was able to cope with what he had in store for her. She cried herself to sleep that night, hoping that perhaps tomorrow morning this would all just be a dream – a very bad dream.


	4. See What I See

Morning came a lot later for her then it normally did, but this morning she wasn't greeted with the normal rays of sun peering through the shades or the twittering of birds outside the window. She wouldn't get up and get ready for work today, she wouldn't make a stop at Euphoria to get herself a smoothie only to rush to catch the train, and she wouldn't be listening to the eclectic mix of music on her iPod. No, today's morning would consist of waking up in a dreary location, still clothed in oversized sweat pants and a t-shirt, still feeling the sharp brunt of pain in her stomach. The room she was in was filled with strange and eerie devices, an ominous glow from the one light in the room flickering and buzzing as it did so. The chains and oddly designed torture devices hanging on the walls and sitting on the various tables. Chainsaws, knives, hacksaws, circular saws – every type of horrifying "tool" you would hate to see sitting in one place. It was all overwhelming to wake up to, her mind was still racing with the events of last night. Slowly she sat up, groaning and clutching her stomach as she did so but she was finally able to sit upright. She leaned back against the wall, her head tilting back against it and her eyes closing as she took a few deep breaths.

Eventually she was able to get to her feet, slowly shuffling her way. Her fingers very slowly extended to brush against the various tables around her before she stopped in front of what looked like a drawing board. On it were blueprints for all types of instruments of torture, designs she had no clue the human mind was able to devise. "I see you're finally awake." The voice behind her caused her to spin around quickly in order to focus on John standing behind her. In his hands were two cups of tea, one which he extended to her and for a number of minutes the cup remained extended until she very slowly reached out to take it. Apprehensive about drinking it, she simply held it in both hands as best she could "It's not poisoned if that's what you're thinking. You passed your test, there's no need to cause you any more harm. Now, there are some clothes in the bathroom over there that should fit you. Finish your tea and then get dressed. We have much to talk about." He turned around and exited the room behind a set of freezer flaps, leaving her standing there with the cup of tea and no more of an understanding of her situation then what she already had; in fact she was even more confused now.

After a great deal of apprehension, she finally raised the cup to her lips. The sensation of the warm tea sliding down her parched throat was very welcoming not to mention the way it took away the chill that was tearing through her spine. When she was done, she set the cup down on one of the tables and slowly made her way into the bathroom. The clothing lay neatly folded on the sink and she picked it up, she happened to glance in the mirror noting the horribly pale color of her skin – she looked as though she were the living dead. As she got dressed she noted the clothing fit perfectly, in fact it looked exactly like her pair of jeans and one of her shirts; she didn't want to know how he got them and if he knew where she lived, she just didn't. She folded up the sweat pants and t-shirt and exited the bathroom with them in her right hand, making her way back over to the bed and laying them down on it. By the time she turned around, she came face-to-face with John all over again. He didn't say anything, simply extended a hand to point in the direction in which he wished for her to follow. She found herself shaking uncontrollably, she felt cold, and John was clearly away of her shaking as well. With what could have been deemed a bit of a comforting smile, he reached over to the chair in front of the drawing board and removed the cloak from it. As he reached around her to drape it over her shoulders, she winced, curling into herself as if to protect herself from unnecessary harm but all that happened was simply feeling the weight of the cloak now resting on her shoulders. "For the final time Michelle, I'm not going to hurt you. Come with me."

"Right…cause you 'weren't going to hurt me' last night either that's why my fucking thumb in broken and I almost drowned in a god damn glass box not to mention the fuck—" He had placed a finger to her lips to get her to stop; she was shaking uncontrollably at the moment in her fit of rage. "I was testing your will to live, your desire to be alive regardless of the things that happened." He placed his hands on her shoulders, a bit a tight grip, squeezing ever so slightly "Do you appreciate your life? Do you understand?" Again the tears were threatening to break the surface and she attempted to look away, but with one finger under her chin he guided her back to looking at him and against everything she was trying to do, tears rolled down her cheeks. She seemed furious but unable to express it as he took a finger and wiped a drop away before grabbing her wrist and now guiding her through the flaps he walked through earlier. When she entered the room and was able to stop her emotional breakdown, she gazed upon two faces. One was in the corner of the room, tinkering away with what looked like a rather gruesome device while the other was sitting at a desk of sorts, quickly stopping her work to glance up at the "new face". Michelle automatically became leery of the girl eyeing her suspiciously, especially when she slowly stood up, walking around the desk to stand before them. "Amanda, this is Michelle. Mark…" The other person in the room turned around, his dark features rather disturbing and he quietly scrutinized the young girl standing next to John. With a very subtle nod of his head, he simply watched her leave the room behind John entirely as if studying her every move. Amanda stood where she had last been in front of John doing the exact same thing however more than likely they were both studying her for very different reasons.


	5. Once You See Death Up Close

"Why are we doing this? Why won't you just let me go home? Seriously…I passed your sick fucking test, I'm tired, I can't sleep in this place because it creeps me out, and this pain is finally gone. I want to make use of my life now, not waste it in darkness." It had been 4 days and the pain had truly subsided. She could move around more freely and not feel as though she was going to vomit every time she shifted or moved in a way her body couldn't handle at the moment. She had even gotten brave enough to remove the bandage around her stomach, to really check out the shoddy stitching job. Although her hand had a much longer healing time, she could now at least slightly move her thumb. Her nights consisted of sitting up, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around herself with an undeniable sense of fear surrounding her; she didn't know if she could really close her eyes and wake up the next morning in the same place. John had tried repeatedly to occupy her to the point of exhaustion, but what he discovered is that without a doubt she could easily stay awake all night long – however that only lasted till the night before. She passed out without even realizing it after she took a moment to sit down and not be so edgy. It was the first time she actually slept through the entire night and at one point she was so deep in sleep that the sound of something metal crashing to the floor in the room next to her didn't bother her one bit. John watched over her like a protective father, but it wasn't really the nature in which he was behaving. He simply watched over her to ensure she was coping alright, after all he didn't have any plans of letting her go, no matter what; it was a strange sense of possession he seemed to have over her and even he didn't understand it all just yet. Every move she would make he would peer out of the corner of his eye, even will sitting at his desk and diligently working away. So her questions only caused him to smirk a bit before turning to her. There was a eerie sort of devious look about his features and she took a deep breath, still unable to handle these quiet, contemplative expressions he possessed "You still have much to learn. Besides, you have a greater purpose now. It will all become clear and make sense when you learn to trust me." "Trust you? Are you serious? You put me in a fucking trap motherfucker! I almost died, need I remind you of this?" His quiet expression turned sour and serious and he quickly changed his tone "What did I tell you about your language? My rules are to be followed, do we understand each other?"

A heavy sigh was all she would respond with before John stood up and slowly walked out of the room, only to return briefly with a rather strange device meant to be worn on someone's head. He took his foot and hooked it into the chair she was sitting in, pushing it around so it was away from the desk and set it in her lap. At first she was a little taken aback, wondering what on earth he wanted her to do with this thing, but even worse was the understanding that this would be used on someone. Gazing up at him there was almost a moment of complete silence before he pulled a chair up across from her and grabbed her hands, setting them on top of the device. He reached over to the table and turned one of her hands palm up and placed a timer in it. "I want you to put this timer on this device. To better understand my method you need to understand the devices their purpose. You need to touch them, feel how they're designed, and learn for yourself. It needs to be on the back, the wiring is simple. Here's the diagram. Now I have a few things to do so I'll be back shortly and you should be done by then. If you need help, Amanda will assist you, but I want you to do this on your own as much as you can."

She jerked back slightly when his hand came to rest on her cheek and he stood, motioning for Amanda to enter the room. They spoke privately for a moment before he left, Amanda picking up a pair of surgical grade scissors and twisting them methodically into her thumb. Michelle swallowed the lump building in her throat, her eyes never leaving the young woman until she was quickly and abruptly informed of her duties. "I would suggest you get started. John doesn't like to be disappointed…too bad you're a disappointment anyway, regardless of whether you succeed or not." She was cold and callous, truly devoid of some type of human emotion when it came to people she didn't know or even want to. Standing there silently, Amanda scrutinized every little thing that she did and Michelle started to develop a much more nervous demeanor due to the eyes watching her. It took about 25 minutes, but she managed to figure out the diagram and properly wire the device. She even set the timer once to make sure it at least counted down correctly and functioned on the device the way it was supposed to. Amanda quickly snatched it out of her lap and held it up, examining it closely, detailing every little thing she did before sneering at her, providing a rather sinister grin "Good job. Guess you aren't _as_ worthless of a fuck up as you used to be. But we'll see…"

"…are you always this pleasant or is this a special occasion?" The question caught Amanda off guard and she shot a cold stare in the direction of the worthless creature that John, for some reason, insisted on keeping around. A silent sneer was all she provided as an answer before she took the trap and walked out of the room, gently setting it down on one of the tables. There was something intoxicating about these metallic, cold, and deadly devices. Running her fingers over the trap, she closed her eyes to imagine what it would feel like to wear it herself; strange how she felt so alive when she thought about being placed in another trap. It wasn't nearly as satisfying to watch someone else suffer as it was to bleed yourself, to feel the high of the fear and panic. She remembered what it was like to watch John's newest subject on the screen. She was so calm and collected before she realized her dilemma. Watching the panic wrought across her one delicate features, to see her struggle and cause herself pain, flailing aimlessly in an attempt to beat the clock – she felt so alive when she watched it, yet she wondered why those that managed to survive John's games (which were few and far in between) couldn't feel the same rush themselves. Instead they seemed more ungrateful for John taking pity on them enough to show them the value of life. But this new one, this girl who lived in the past and was given another chance, she seemed a little bit different. It wasn't that she felt the same rush and appreciation that Amanda did, after all, she wasn't worthy of John's "love" in her eyes, but she seemed like much more of a rock then even Amanda herself was capable of being. She hadn't even seen her cry yet, really lose control of herself over the situation she was in; why didn't John just put her back out on the street anyway? The thought of John favoring this girl, wanting her in his life, infuriated Amanda to the point that she had to quell the aching in her soul. She grabbed the sharpest thing close to her which happened to be a knife and sat down in a chair. It was a very different sensation when the blade slowly cut into her arm and she drug it down to feel the cut slide from the top of her arm to the softer flesh on the underside. Her eyes closed as she savored the feeling and she even found herself watching the blood slowly pool at the surface before dripping down to the floor below. She knew John didn't like blood all over the place and wanted a clean work space, so she set the knife down, grabbing herself a rag and pressing it against her arm to stop the bleeding. She took a separate rag and wiped up the small droplets of blood on the floor before bandaging her own arm; she had to return to the room and make sure this little bitch didn't take off or do something incredibly stupid. As she went to walk towards the room, the front door opened, Hoffman stepping into the lair and pulling down the hood of his jacket– this girl could wait, she wasn't going anywhere anyway without someone knowing it.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, glancing around the room she currently sat in, debating on whether it was a good idea or not to get up and start to wander around. As she peered over her shoulder she noticed a tarp draped over something and of course her curiosity got the best of her. After double checking that no one was standing in the doorway or coming in at any point (she could hear talking in the other room), she slowly got up out of the chair and with very careful and delicate steps she headed towards the tarp. She felt a chill go down her spine again and tried to shrug it off, fingers very lightly brushing against the desk as they trailed towards the tarp. Slowly pulling her hand up, she brushed the dust off of her fingertips before taking hold of the tarp and slowly lifting it up. She still couldn't see underneath of it by lifting it up due to the minimal lighting in the room so she slowly started to pull it down. As the tarp slowly drifted down towards the ground with her slight tugging, it revealed underneath of it a number of television monitors. Looking back towards the door, she bit her bottom lip as she approached the screens closer, trying to make out the unusual shapes – that clearly, upon closer examination were people. She covered her mouth with both hands, feeling a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach that turned into complete fear when she felt a strong hand take hold of her shoulder and spin her around. She practically backed up onto the table, almost crashing into the monitors in her state of fear, but was steady by the hand on her shoulder taking a tighter hold and pulling her forward.

Staring into the eyes of John Kramer was like watching your own soul's darkest secrets being pulled from the depths within and she felt like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. John smiled softly before motioning to the monitors "If you wanted to see what was on these monitors you could have asked. Amanda informed me you finished wiring the timer. Now, tonight you will understand my method. You have…" he peered at the clock on the wall for a moment before looking back at her "…2 hours. By the way, I brought you something I figured you might want." With that he set down on the table her bag before exiting the room. He was a bit cold towards her, as if he wanted her to understand the serious nature of what she was about to witness. As he left, she slowly took hold of her bag, pulling it towards her and reaching inside to pull out her iPod. Unwinding the headphones, she walked out from behind the flaps and peered around the room before her eyes focused on the cluster of Hoffman, John, and Amanda all looking at her. It seemed as though she was unable to display expressions because with the most stoic stare she could muster she slowly put her headphones in and turned on the music; it was the closest she would get to comfort in this hell hole.


	6. I'll Give You a Chance

The relief of 2 hours being completely alone really helped a lot more then she expected, even in this place. She got daring enough to really explore the lair a bit more thoroughly, although the exploration didn't help her view of this place – it was still like living in hell as a prisoner unable to shake the bindings. She could have easily walked out the front door if she wanted to, but then again she thought about the consequences of leaving and being caught up in another one of John's "lessons" which was the last thing she wanted. She listened to the sound of the rain tapping on the metal roof of the building and found herself leaning back in a chair against one of the tables. The entire time she used music to keep herself from losing her mind, the lyrics rolling through her mind, tickling her imagination, was enough to allow her to escape for a short period of time. As she puttered around the lair and finally took a chance to relax in a chair, closing her eyes as she listened to the unsettling buzzing of the lights above her head, John watched her carefully from a distance, allowing her the chance to realize her freedom in his "home". He was amazed that she didn't even try to leave, even though she spent about 15 minutes with her hands and forehead resting on the front door and although it was locked, he noticed she never once pushed against it to test whether it was or not, she just simply surrendered and walked away from it. John was a people watcher, it was clearly obvious and she was intensely intriguing with her behaviors here in the lair. Watching her tap her foot to the music, mouth the lyrics she was listening to, and seeing her every now and then close her eyes as if trying to hide within a fantasy world was all very fascinating to John – mainly because he knew she needed to live outside of it and he wasn't willing to let her crawl back inside herself and escape the reality of her own life; he would ensure she appreciated every single breath she took. He could judge the content of the songs she listened to based on her facial expressions and body language; if something sad was playing she'd sit idly in a chair, staring off into space or perhaps fiddling with her fingers, if something more upbeat and angry came on she'd start to pace uncomfortably around the room. She was a curious creature, yet she had so much to offer the world and he could not understand why she was so weak – sure she put up a great front, but it clear to John that if he pulled at her emotional cords, he could easily get her to fall apart which was exactly his plan.

The time passed much too quickly for her, especially when she found herself broken out of her state of mind by John who clearly wasn't going to allow any protest or wait for her – he took hold of her arm and pulled her to a stand, dragging her into the other room where she saw all the monitors, but this time Hoffman and Amanda were both sitting in the room. Hoffman at the moment was messing with installing tapes in the tape decks while Amanda eyed her very intently, watching her every move. As Hoffman put the last tape in the tape deck, he wheeled over a chair and sat down in it, directly in front of the screen; he seemed to love having front row seats to these sick and twisted games. Amanda propped her boots up on an adjacent table as she leaned back in her chair, peering momentarily at John before speaking "She's gonna watch this? You think she can handle it?" "Silence Amanda. Now, Michelle, sit down." It was a demand, not a suggestion and she quickly sat, eyes still trained on the two other individuals in the room. She felt extremely uncomfortable in this situation and even worse was the feeling of dark, heartless eyes piercing into the very core of her being. John sat down beside her "Let the games begin." Slipped past his lips as if it was a rehearsed, daily phrase much like a morning bowl of cereal was for most people. The very tone in which it was said sent chills down her spine and for a moment, she felt extremely cold even though it was clearly a very comfortable temperature in the room. There were 6 rooms on the monitors and in each one was one person, each in a different trap, each with a different life-altering decision to make in order to survive. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to witness on these old, scrambled and jerky screens, but it was obvious from the looks on Amanda and Hoffman's faces that it was as exciting to them as it was to John – sick fucks. The first room had what appeared to be a young man and John was more than willing to describe the situation to her "His name is Donnie. He works for a company that constantly prescribes medication that could easily kill the patients taking it in order to make a dime. He doesn't care if his customers die from the medication they are given, doesn't provide them the essential warnings about the side effects of their medicine, yet he lives inside a 4 bedroom house with a wife he hardly ever speaks to while he spends his nights in his girlfriend's bed." It was all overwhelming to take in, to see the true nature of mankind in its purest form was...frightening. And as quickly as his description began, the game started; it was clear the young man woke up, he was fighting violently against the hooks that suspended him in the air. Gears clicked and whirred as the device seemed to come to life, breathing of its own accord with the evil infused within its design. She could see the horror stricken on his face, watched his body twist and contort violently against the cold metal digging into his skin. He was already covered in blood, drops of it hitting the floor beneath him as he tried to free himself from the vile creature holding him prisoner. She could see the chains pulling to the walls surrounding him, pulling further away from the middle of the room where he hung. His shoulder blades popped with the strain, he screamed in a way that sounded like a violently wounded wild animal taking its last breath. Essentially this man was the prey instead of the predator he normally was at his career. Her hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide, and she could feel the sting and burning from the tears; was this real and was she really watching this happen? She felt sick, like she truly wanted to vomit and she wanted nothing more than to look away, however it was like a fucking train wreck. The gears cranked harder as the man struggled frantically to free himself yet when he seemed to realize his fate was inevitable it appeared from the screen that he let out one last final scream of submission to the violent animal holding him hostage. His shoulder blades popped out the socket, his hips twisted and contorted till they loosened entirely from their own snug location. The chain wrapped around his neck was the first to jerk, snapping his neck, tearing his head completely from his torso – the actual visual caused her to squeak as tears ran down her cheeks. It was far from over though as his arms and legs tore from his torso, tendons and muscles snapping and pulling, bones breaking, and a river of blood pouring from every dismembered part of his body. It was so gruesome that blood spattered against the lens of the camera and it was clear that the pool forming beneath the torso was tinged red. His dismembered body swung back and forth from the hooks anchoring it to the ceiling as the gears grinded to a halt.

Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, tears streamed down her face. She was breathing hard, unable to articulate, unable to feel anything – or perhaps the issue was she finally felt _everything_. Amanda smirked, her focus trained on the girl that was clearly an emotional wreck over what she just saw, Hoffman also watching her very closely before only making one single statement to the man behind the diabolic monster in that room "I don't think she's doing alright. You may want to take her out of here because she fucking passes out." John focused quietly on the young woman trembling beside him in her chair, her face stained with tears that didn't seem to stop. He reached over to touch the salty droplets running down her cheek but instead she jerked away from him violently, raising a finger towards him and uncovering her mouth. "NO! Don't you fucking touch me! You fucking monster!" She was in hysterics, quickly standing up to leave the room, but John stood in her way quickly. "Sit **down**." Regardless of his demand, she shoved past him and quickly exited the room to make her way to the only place that would solve the sickness creeping up on her. Rushing into the bathroom, she found herself praying to the porcelain god without alcohol which was a change. She was so sick to her stomach from what she saw that she couldn't even stop to properly cry her fucking eyes out. How could they watch that? What the hell kind of show was this for any person to endure? It was repulsive and horrifying – it was wrong. She curled up around the toilet, praying for some kind of relief, some kind of hope; perhaps it was all just a dream. However she realized one very critical part of this – there were no drugs to use to stop the horrible images from flooding her mind, she had to endure this like most 'normal' people did…through suffering.


	7. I Am The Man You Call Jigsaw

By the time morning came, she awoke, for the second time in her life in a bed she hadn't planned on being in. The last thing she remembered was throwing up her guts before passing out on the bathroom floor and apparently someone felt leaving her there wasn't the best option for her. Two days had passed and she hadn't eaten a single thing, she hadn't talked to any of them, and she hadn't even slept - horrific nightmares overwhelmed her sleep; she continually saw Donnie's torso swinging from the ceiling, his limbs being ripped off, the blood. Oh god, the nightmares were never ending and every single time she closed her eyes she imagined how he screamed, what he felt in his last moments - it was truly horrifying. This morning she stood in the shower, her eyes closed, head tilted down as water cascaded down her face and back. Her hand was pressed against the shower wall and she was unaware of the fact that she had her fingernails digging into the tiles. A deep sigh and she raised her head, turning off the water and got out, getting dressed - she didn't even care that her hair was soaking wet, that she looked like the walking dead from days without sleep and food. She just wanted to go home to her apartment, though small and cramped, it was home all the same unlike this variable prison she currently lived in. As she slowly walked into the adjacent room she saw a bowl of cereal sitting on a table with a glass of water - John had been trying to get her to eat and she refused to touch any food…even the sight of it made her want to vomit, but this time she needed some sort of energy before she crashed entirely. Unwilling she sat down at the table and picked up the spoon, poking at the cereal before finally taking a spoonful into her mouth. It was satisfying, but she still felt rather sick even while eating and she had to overcome this mental block. Regardless of what she saw, she still couldn't cry more then that one time, it was rather frustrating. She figured she could have at least let out years of emotional stress she kept under lock and key with that terrifying sight, yet she was sadly mistaken and still void of any type of _true _feelings. She was more emotionally charged over the death of a stranger then the death of her soul years ago; there was something extremely wrong with that idea.

John figured she would struggle through the process of watching someone fail a test, but her response was more emotionally charged then he had anticipated. When she left the room in such a fury against his wishes, it invoked a sense of rage in him that he hadn't felt in the long time - usually people listened to him when he told them to do something considering his very authoritative tone at times, but this one was resilient. When he found her in the bathroom he simply shook his head and got Hoffman to help get her off the floor into the bed where she would clearly get a more comfortable night's sleep. John had been up those nights working on his plans for the next set of games, the next traps, and studying the next test subjects so he was aware of her inability to sleep - he even remembered hearing her scream before shooting up in bed and wrapping her arms around herself, rocking to soothe the terror. Truly John could understand how it would be hard for such a young woman to overcome the terror of watching death, but he was baffled by her inability to express her emotions. Clearly she was a curious case, so resilient, still able to be shut down even after he tested her - there had to be a way to crack her shell, to break her down only to help build her back up into a better human being; one that was fixed. When she refused to eat it concerned John considering her lack of sleep, however he didn't let it bother him too much since he was sure she'd breakdown with time. Sure enough, this morning, he watched as she broke down, pale and weak, a bedraggled mess, she finally took his offer of food and accepted it - it was a rather indicative moment for John to see her crawl out from underneath the shelter she hide herself in, perhaps now the _real_healing could begin. It was like learning to walk for this one, as if John had broken her emotional legs and now he had to help guide her, slowly, carefully, until she could function the way she was meant to. John wanted to see this one succeed, there was something about her that intrigued him, that pulled him in - she had that kind of smile, demeanor, personality that could light up a room yet she wallowed in self pity for so long that she lost sight of who she really was. It wasn't necessarily that he wanted to teach her to do his work, more then likely this one would be unable to handle being detached from the emotions that came, but more like he wanted to study her, to find out what made her tick and in turn perhaps turn her into a sort of "companion" so to speak, someone he and the others could rely on, someone he could truly talk to in a much different way then Amanda and Mark - but only time would tell what she would be capable of. Since he was satisfied with her response to his offer, he simply left her to herself instead of forcing himself upon her, allowing her the chance to come to him - after all, she clearly wasn't interested in associating with him for the past two days and Hoffman trying to force himself on her was met with a hostility John had not seen in a very long time. She was tough as nails and wouldn't budge easily but John had a plan to break her down, it would just be a matter of time until she felt as though she could speak to him of her own accord.

Brushing a few strands of hair from her face, she picked up the bowl after she finished what was in it and the glass and slowly made her way out of the room. Peering around cautiously, she made sure no one was just standing around to bombard her before she made her way over to the sink and washed both of them out thoroughly, setting them down to dry. She leaned against the sink and looked around the room briefly, wringing her hands nervously in front of her before slowly walking away and through the lair. She heard the rustle of papers and slowly peered around the corner to see John sitting at his desk, sifting through papers with a pencil in his mouth. She brought a hand up to the back of her neck and rubbed it nervously, John well aware of her presence and smirking ever so slightly from behind the pencil - that-a-girl. She bit her bottom lip briefly, looking around the room before taking a deep breath "Umm, thanks for the breakfast." She didn't have to say much more and John wouldn't afford her a response except for pulling out a chair and patting it, still staring at his papers and not giving her one single glance. It took her a little bit of time but she very slowly made her way over to the chair sitting down slowly and watching him draw - it was just what John wanted, for her to "watch" to "see". She sat and watched him in silence for about 20 minutes, no one saying anything to each other, John simply drawing and her looking around the room briefly before watching him work. His drawings were very detailed and very graphic, sending chills down her spine a couple times, but at the same time she marveled at his genius, his creativity - the man was a mastermind, there was no doubt about that, but at the same time he was still a horribly sick and twisted old man.


	8. Do You Trust Me?

John started to enjoy the company of the young girl, even though she still was very unwilling to open up to him - she was a bit more of a challenge then Amanda was in many ways. John held a pair of pliers in one hand and had a little bit of solder pursed between his lips. He set the pliers down and started to blindly reach around behind him trying to find the soldering iron, but for some reason he couldn't find it. When he turned ever so slightly to look for the iron he found the young girl who was such a hard book to open standing behind him, extending it out towards him. He smiled a bit before taking it out of her hands and watched her carefully as she rubbed her arms nervously and looked around the lair. He removed the solder from between his lips and started using the soldering iron, speaking quietly, his voice the typical deep and gritty texture it always held "Thank you. So why are you still so nervous here? Have I not given you a reason to feel comfortable with me, comfortable here?"

It was a curious question he asked and she wasn't quite so sure why he would even assume she'd find a level of comfort with him after he forced her to mutilate herself in order to survive. It was an internal struggle that she was still unable to overcome - sure, she appreciated that she was alive, she appreciated that John seemed to care in some fashion, but she didn't appreciate all the emotions that bubbled to the surface due to her "awakening" in the trap. Biting her bottom lip lightly she sighed and walked over to an available chair in the room, sitting down. "…why are you keeping me here?" it was a question she had yet to ask, a question that was in the back of her mind and John seemed a little stunned by it. He lifted his head up from his work, curiously quiet, thinking, and not looking at her just yet - because perhaps he didn't even have the answer himself? No, John Kramer didn't know why the young woman was still here but Jigsaw, Jigsaw knew exactly why he kept her around "You still have a great deal of recovery. I wish to lead you down that path so you can feel whole again." She scoffed and shook her head, leaning back in the chair "You've said that before and if that were the case, had you realized by now that I'm not an open book and you can't get under my skin, you would have done away with me and chalked me up to a failure." John smirked a bit, putting the iron down and stood up from the chair, walking over to her and placing his hands on either side of the chair arms. He leaned in very close, completely invading her personal space, bridging the gap, his face just inches away from her own. She had her hands firmly planted on the seat of the chair and was leaning back, peering into those blue eyes as if looking for some sign that he wasn't about to end her life right then and there. In a very husky and stern tone, making sure she was well aware of his feelings and thoughts, John spoke "…if you were a failure, you wouldn't be sitting here breathing today. I don't give up on anyone and I'm certainly not giving up on you simply because you want me to. Understand?" With that he quickly reached out, grabbing her cheeks between his fingers and thumb, making sure she looked directly at him when she spoke. It was in that moment he could see the apprehension, the understanding; she was getting the picture that it was his rules or none "Y-yes…" "Good."

He released her backing off from the chair and walked back over to where he was working, sitting down and starting up the soldering iron as quickly as he had set it down. Hmm, this one was tricky, aggressive, and there was no way John was going to allow her to continue this way, no way he was going to let her off the hook that easily - she had to learn, no matter what it took to "teach" her. He could hear that she was still sitting there behind him, that she hadn't moved and he simply smiled in self satisfaction; now she was listening. It took him a few moments to finish up the final touches on the wiring on this trap before he figured he would get her involved - last time she did a wonderful job on wiring the timer to the last trap, however she missed seeing it in action because she couldn't seem to handle it - John had only wished she had listened to him that night, but there was time to fix these "quirks" of hers. "Come here. I want you to understand how this trap will work." "…no thanks. I've seen what your 'work' does. It's awful, horrifying, and nothing less then murder." Oh, that caused a nerve to be plucked in John. He turned around in his chair to look at her, pointing to the chair next to him and with a very controlled sense of anger, he demanded her obedience "Get over here **now**." Her eyes widened at the stern tone of voice she heard coming from John and quickly stood up from her chair, slowly walking over. She stood by the chair, John's lips pursed together in a scowl at the fact that she wasn't listening. He grabbed her wrist and pulled roughly, causing her to sit down in the chair and pulled her chair to force it to turn and face the trap. "_Listen_…" he started to explain the details of the trap, how it functioned, what he planned on the test subject doing in order to escape the ultimate fate - death. She listened closely, made sure she was paying attention to everything he said; the way he was talking and looking at her made her feel like a scolded child and in John's eyes, she certainly was. When he was done explaining the trap to her, he watched her closely to study her expressions or maybe he was just trying to study her; she truly was fascinating to him. "I love all my victims, deeply. Their survival is what I want. I want to see them appreciate their lives. I choose them for a reason just as I chose you. But you, you are something special, something unique." It was all he said before he motioned for her to get up as he stood up himself, then placed a hand on her back, guiding her towards the doorway to exit the room so he could finish the last tiny details on his trap. Michelle exited the room feeling overwhelmed with all the information John gave her about the trap, about the subjects, about what he did, and very deep in thought about John's statement to her - he **loved** all his victims…and she started to feel a bit _different_ about this deranged old man.


	9. Those Who Take Life For Granted

**WARNING: This chapter contains graphic and violent content. If you are disturbed by the concept of rape PLEASE do not continue on.**

Frustrating wasn't even the word for the past few months of events that left her emotionally and mentally overwhelmed. Today was a bit different though as she sat impatiently in the passenger's seat of Detective Mark Hoffman's car. Now, typically she wouldn't have been allowed to step foot away from John, however for some reason today he felt it entirely necessary for her to go along with Hoffman to see the process of "capturing" a subject. This wasn't really her cup of tea, none of what she had been involved in was - everything that she witnessed and did left her feeling sick and uncomfortable, what the hell was John thinking? Strumming her fingers on the car door, she picked her head up as Hoffman walked out of the brick building they were parked in front of, checking the area briefly before sliding back into the driver's seat and starting up the car. This entire trip they pretty much ignored one another - they had a silent understanding that she despised him, but for Mark Hoffman it was a rather fascinating endeavor; he liked the chase. He had an air about him that made her entirely uncomfortable; this man was _not _like John in regards to what he gained from watching "tests" in action. "I thought we were doing this to actually…what was it…oh yeah 'gather' a test subject? What the hell is going on?" She was very disenchanted by this entire day of enduring the detective's presence and he was getting more and more annoyed at her resilient and bitchy personality.

"Sometimes things don't go as planned, ever think about that? The person we're looking for isn't home like John anticipated, but I've been tracking them for some time, I know their routine." They backed out of the parking space way in the back of the apartment complex and headed back out onto the road. It was dusk, so night was falling quickly and the idea of being trapped in this car with Hoffman all night long was completely unsettling.

They said absolutely nothing to one another the entire trip to the store the victim worked at. Hoffman's plan was to wait patiently in the parking lot since they were working a late shift and gather them up when they exited the build - typically they were the last ones out, locking up for the night. Her head rested against the headrest of the seat and she had drawn her knees up to her chest for the ride. It was Hoffman who kept eyeing her carefully, trying to ensure she didn't see him sizing her up - granted, he was busy doing what John requested but Hoffman couldn't help but notice her after all this time. She was fragile unlike Amanda, always by John's side and it took John a long time to allow her free roam of the lair to the point that he didn't feel the need to watch her every move. Hoffman however noticed a great deal about her from the minute he met her - midnight colored, slightly wavy hair, piercing green eyes, and a personality that said "fuck off". It was her very demeanor towards him that had him so compelled - she yelled at him often times when he got into her personal space, blew him off like he was a plague, and the few moments they did talk often resulted in them arguing at one another. "Are you always this big of a bitch? I would have figured you learned something from your near-death experience."

She peered over at him carefully for a moment, glaring daggers before looking back out of the car window "That had nothing to do with my personality. If I feel like being a bitch to you because you're the biggest arrogant asshole and heartless sonuvabitch I've ever met, I'll do just that." "…stupid bitch." Hoffman scoffed and sneered before peering back out the window, Michelle eyeballing him for a while before doing the same and looking out her passenger's side to watch the cars pass by them on the opposite side of the road.

They pulled into the dark parking lot, parking towards the back and as Hoffman turned off the car, he put his arm over the headrest of the seat and motioned towards her door "Get the fuck out, you're getting in on this whether you like it or not."

"Fuck you." "…don't tempt me." His comment caused her to stare at him silently for a few moments, that sinister and dark appearance unmoving for a few moments before he stepped out the car and straightened out his jacket. After a bit of hesitation she finally stepped out the car, closing the door behind her and sighed, Hoffman leaning into the car to the backseat to grab out the two masks he had brought with him, tossing one to her. She caught it and took a moment to really look at it - it sent chills down her spine to see it; wow, John made pigs look terrifying. It restored a memory she had much rather have left in the vaults of her mind of when she was kidnapped after running into John on the street - that pig mask was the last thing she looked at before she blacked out in the alley. "We have about 20 minutes before he comes out of that building, but when it gets down to 5 put that on…and don't fuck up." Rolling her eyes, she simply nodded her head and leaned back against the car, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hoffman wasn't sure what went through his mind, but it wasn't something he would "normally" do - after all, after meeting John he felt a sort of liberty from the rules of the masses; it was Jigsaw's world after all. He caught himself watching her, carefully, like he had started doing back in the lair. He watched the way she moved, her body language around John, Amanda, and himself, and although Hoffman had some pretty high standards for himself when spending all this time with John he started to miss the simple "sins" of the world. It had been ages since Hoffman had a decent lay with a beautiful woman - what the hell did John see in this girl anyway? Sure, she was cute, but not like she stood out from the crowd - maybe John just wanted a pretty face around that wasn't as fucking psychotic as Amanda. His thoughts were getting deeper and much darker as time went on - clearly if he tried any of his antics with Amanda he'd end up on the wrong end of a knife, pair of scissors, or potentially a hacksaw…but not with this one. She wouldn't put up much of a fight now would she? What the hell was going on in his mind? I mean, if John found out that he decided to do something as vile as what he was thinking he would surely find himself in a trap. If there was one thing that John loathed in this world it was murderers and rapists. Oh what the hell, like she would really say something to John anyway…he could use leverage on her easily with the fragile state of mind she seemed to be in; besides, he fucking had needs not to mention the cute little jeans she wore that hugged her curves, her firecracker attitude. God he loved a woman fragile enough to break into a thousand pieces - he would break her down quicker then she could get back up and the thought of her being helpless and at his mercy just set him over the edge.

He pushed away from the side of the car, reaching into his pocket to grab his knife and slowly started to tap it against his thigh as he walked. He whistled methodically, the sound of his boots hitting the ground echoing in the barren and dark parking lot they were waiting in. She turned her head to glance over at him as he came around the front of the car, raising a brow ever so slowly at his strange behavior. "What? What the fuck is going on?" Oh he wanted so badly to see the fear in her eyes, to watch her squirm and cower under not only his size but he was going to show her that he could fucking rail her just like she did him. With a quickness that she couldn't have predicted, Hoffman stepped into her, slamming her up against the car and quickly bringing the knife to her neck. His body pinned her against the passenger's side door while he used his free hand to forcefully grab the back of her hair and tilt her head back to expose the soft flesh of her neck. "You wanna fucking play this game? I'll play a fucking game with you. You think you're so fucking tough, well looks like John's little 'pet' is about to be taught a lesson…" He jerked her head back even more as she gritted her teeth, her heart starting to race and with how close their bodies were, Hoffman could feel it pounding away. He slowly started to lower the knife, hooking it into the collar of her shirt and flicked his wrist ever so slightly, the jagged edge of the blade tearing through the fabric and exposing her cleavage. "I'm going to enjoy this…trust me…" pulling her head closer he whispered into her ear in a gruff and aggressive tone "…and I want to fucking hear you scream."

Her eyes widened and at that moment she realized what the detective was about to do "No no no…motherfucker let me go!!" He aggressively pulled her head back, his mouth pressing against the flesh of her neck after it was exposed. She felt sick and felt chills tear through her very soul - they weren't enjoyable, they were horrifying; she was about to get raped.

Mark shoved his knee between her legs to push them apart as his lips moved to her chest, some sort of animalistic urge overcame him and he wasn't thinking anything now except getting what he wanted from her as violently as he could - she pissed him off with her brazen attitude…no one fucked around with Detective Mark Hoffman. All the while he had the knife pressed against her chest, but when he moved his mouth away from her chest he slammed it down on the hood of the car, using his now free hand to work at his button and zipper while he used the other to grab her throat. He had such a forceful grip on it that she could hardly breathe and she got the moment to bring her hands up, digging her fingernails into his wrists hard enough to make him bleed. He gritted his teeth, quickly getting his zipper down and then grabbed one wrist with his now free hand, yanking her nails out of his wrist "Fucking bitch, don't make this harder on yourself…or do, I don't fucking care." Grabbing at the waistband of her jeans he quickly flicked the button undone with one hand and pulled the zipper down, finally pushing her jeans and underwear down to the ground. "Don't you dare fucking think about fighting me or I swear I will fucking kill you right here in the parking lot of this dump. You understand me?!" He jerked her head violently in response and she could feel the tears brimming for the first time in a long time - of all the terrible things that had happened in her life, she never fathomed something this traumatic would **ever** happen to her.

Fight or flight sunk into her conscious state of mind and she quickly raised a knee to try and catch him where it hurt, grabbing a hold of his shirt and violently trying to force him back, but Hoffman was too strong for her and he clearly banked on having the upper hand in this one.

"Fuck!" her knee caught his groin ever so slightly, clearly now he was pissed as she grabbed the knife off the hood of the car, grabbed her wrists with his free hand and shoved them down into her stomach, pushing the knife against her throat. He was using such force that she could feel the cold blade digging into her flesh and could feel the hot sting of blood building at the surface of the superficial cut at the moment. "Do that again! Fucking do it and I'll slit your throat you stupid cunt!" Sneering in the darkness he looked menacing and overwhelmed her.

Emotionally she broke into a million pieces, now only managing to be able to cry since she failed to fight or even take flight from the detective. He pulled the blade away to watch the blood start to slowly trickle down her delicate white skin and had a smirk that looked devastatingly diabolical. Stomping down onto her jeans and underwear around her ankles, he grabbed one of her legs and lifted it up, digging his fingers into her skin to keep her from fighting back and without any regard for anything that could possibly happen around them from this point on, he thrusted violently. She gasped and winced, ready to scream before he placed a hand over her mouth to silence her - the urge to break her in two was undeniable for him.

Clearly Hoffman had a sick need to satisfy a very violent urge to take command of her and get his needs met in return "…don't you fucking make a sound until I say so." His violent thrusting became more frantic, his fingers digging so hard into the skin of her thigh that he was leaving bruises behind. Every move made her wince and even further, for the first time in a very long time, she started to sob. Her wall cracked in two in a violent manner, her entire façade crumbling around her, and her resolve became nothing more - Hoffman had done what John had yet to do and that was to break her down into tiny pieces scattered on the asphalt of a dark and lonely parking lot. Hoffman was starting to lose his grip on his control of his own body, breathing heavy as he fucked with no regard for the poor young woman he was violating - but that was just it, he had none. It was a rush to see her cry, to see her fall apart, to watch the blood trickle down her neck from the small cut, to remove his hand from her mouth and choke her almost to the point she couldn't breathe; she was even clawing violently at his hand, but it wouldn't stop him - the pain was kind of exhilarating. He lessened the pressure on her neck as he slammed her back into the passenger's side door violently, his hand sliding from her thigh to her left cheek and gripping tightly before he pressed his lips to hers - bad move. She bit down as hard as she could in a last ditch effort to stop what he was doing, Hoffman screaming into her mouth before pulling back, blood pooling at the surface before sliding down his chin "Fuck! You nasty fucking--you're gonna regret that." He let go of her cheek to brush his hand across his lip to wipe the blood away for the moment before grabbing her leg again and leaning in, his gritty and gruff voice whispering in her ear "…now I'm gonna make you fucking scream. I hope you enjoy this." With that last statement, he thrusted with abandon, so violently and so aggressively that she couldn't help but to scream now that he released his grip on her throat - but her scream was something of sheer horror, agony, and was mixed with the uncontrolled sobbing. Her scream set him off and he slammed into her one last time, burying his face into her shoulder and growling almost before stopping all movement and breathing heavy; but he couldn't rest for long. He let go of her leg and grabbed the knife off the top of the car again, pressing it against her throat, much harder this time, making sure to cause her pain. "Ahh…" she gasped as she felt the blade sink into her skin ever so slightly "You fucking say a word to John and trust me, I will fucking kill you. Don't test me, you open your mouth and your dead, you got that?"

She nodded her head ever so slightly as tears streamed down her face, Hoffman releasing her and backing away. She slid down the passenger's side door of the car, trembling and when she hit the ground she placed her hands over her face, sobbing into them. Hoffman tucked in his shirt, zipped up his pants and sneered, running a hand through his hair "Get up and fucking get over it, it's time." Slowly she managed to pull her jeans up and button them back up without getting up off the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking back and forth slowly. "What a fucking waste you are. All bark and absolutely no bite." With that he put on the mask as the gentleman they were waiting for exited the store and locked up the door.


	10. His Love is Everlasting

_There is nothing left of you, I can see it in your eyes. Sing the anthem of the angels and say the last goodbye. I keep holding onto you but I can't bring you back to life. Sing the anthem of the angels and say the last goodbye. You're dead alive._

She watched silently from the side of the car, her tear stained face felt hot even in the cool chill of the night. Hoffman made it look so easy as he came up behind the unsuspecting victim standing at the door, inserting a needle into the neck of the man with a heavy tranquilizer and he dropped to the ground within a few short seconds. She was simply a shell of herself at the moment, trembling as she sat there on the ground, unable to stop the steady flow of tears that threatened to blind her.

Hoffman took the mask off to get some fresh air since it was often times a little suffocating to wear it for extended periods of time. He started to drag the man's limp body across the parking lot, getting him over to the side of the car and once again, he only acknowledged her presence as a burden on him "How about you make yourself useful and give me a hand? Or are you going to continue to snivel there on the ground cause I can leave you here."

She bit her bottom lip, her head was swimming with so many emotions she had failed to recognize for so many years, but right now they were nothing but a storm threatening to take over every aspect of her existence. Her resolve was trashed, her body in the same shambles as her emotions. Slowly she stood up, ignoring Hoffman's request for her help and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them slowly.

Hoffman shook his head at her, smirking as he pushed the man's legs in through the door before shutting it "I can break you down again if you want. You don't seem to understand what I was 'teaching' you." She shot him a terrified look, backing up slowly as he advanced towards her before forcefully brushing past her and heading to the driver's side. He rested his hands on the hood of the car "Get in." but she remained unmoving at his request, staring at her reflection in the window. Just the sight of herself made her feel sick and tears started to flow uncontrolled all over again, Hoffman rolling his eyes and walking back around the passenger's side. He bridged the space between them, once again pinning her to the passenger's side door and she closed her eyes, turning her head away, her whole body shaking. A rather sick satisfied smile crossed Hoffman's features before he reached down and opened the door, grabbing her wrist to pull her back from it, then using that same wrist to maneuver her to sit in the seat - she was so broken and it satisfied him beyond any words he could use to describe it. He closed the door behind her before getting into the driver's side and starting up the car, heading back to the lair.

When they arrived at the lair, Hoffman parked the car, turning it off before leaning back and looking over at her "Remember what we talked about. I have no qualms about ending your life."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, the expression on his face was one that could invoke fear in even the most hardened criminal. She simply looked down to her hands that were folded in her lap and Hoffman took that as a silent acknowledgement of their agreement.

Getting out of the car, he opened the back door and drug their newest test subject out of the car with little regard to the comfort of the man, whether he was awake or not.

Michelle slowly exited the car and grabbed the legs of the man to stop him from being drug like he was worthless, refusing to look at Hoffman as they walked into the lair, laying the man down on the floor. Amanda and John looked over at the two as they entered, Hoffman nodding to them both before looking over at his "accomplice". She refused to look at any of them as she brought a hand to the back of her neck to try and stop herself from crying again, walking into the other room to head to the bathroom.

Hoffman's lips pursed together momentarily before John walked towards him, Hoffman motioning to the man on the floor "So this is the last one for this game?" John acknowledged him with a nod before slightly nodding in the direction Michelle disappeared in "What happened to her?" Hoffman raised a brow slowly and shook his head, easily covering up his misdeed with such a cool and collected demeanor "I told her to help me, so she could learn. The guy put up a fight, she couldn't handle him."

John nodded ever so slightly before asking Hoffman to help Amanda get their last addition into his trap and when the two left the room he slowly made his way in the direction the young woman disappeared. He was curious why Hoffman would have let someone so new to their world handle such a daunting task, but all the same he felt that the sooner she was able to learn and mold herself, the easier it would all be for her. As he pushed the flaps aside he couldn't help but notice the indistinguishable sound of sobbing coming from the bathroom. Curiosity got the better of John and he slowly and silently rounded the corner to peer in through the bathroom door to see if she was standing there by the sink, but instead he noticed the shower curtain closed and heard the sobbing coming from the shower. The water was running, her clothes strewn across the floor and it wasn't in John's nature to be so invasive as to want to see what was going on, but the sound of her crying was hard to ignore and in spite of himself he was concerned for her. He pulled the shower curtain back to see her sitting on the bottom of the shower, obsessively rubbing at her skin as if trying to rub it off. For a few minutes John simply watched her, but seeing the way she was acting, listening to her sobbing, he realized she was falling apart and he became rather curious about why getting attacked by the man she and Hoffman went to get was so devastating for her. Sighing deeply he let go of the curtain and grabbed a towel, once again pulling the curtain back and shutting off the water to the shower. She gasped as she looked up at him, looking terrified but John didn't respond except to reach down towards her with the towel in hand.

She jerked back from him, shivering in the bottom of the shower and John bent down further, wrapping the towel around her "Come on, it's alright." With the towel wrapped around her, he grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her get up and step out. She gripped the towel so tightly she could feel the strands of fabric tearing under her nails, looking into the blue eyes of the man who clearly meant her no harm the way Hoffman had. "It's okay." he raised a hand to her cheek to wipe away a flood of tears, but no matter what he did they kept coming. She was shaking before losing her grip on her sanity and dropped her head, sobbing and starting to drop to her knees on the bathroom floor, but John had a grip on her and refused to let her fall. Something wasn't right here and he wasn't able to put his finger on it without her trusting him enough to talk to him about it. John guided her out of the bathroom slowly, holding her hands and trying to steady her. Once he got her to the bed he sat her down, motioning for her to wait, he walked into the bathroom to gather her clothes off the floor and set them down on the floor in front of the bed before sitting down next to her. John wasn't normally one to comfort others, but in this instance if he didn't, he was afraid he would completely lose this one. Placing his hand on her back, he gently offered her his attention should she want to speak to him after she was done crying. John hadn't seen her cry like this yet, not this intently - it was truly a relief to see her suddenly "coming to life" before his eyes, but he was concerned over the reasons behind her emotional breakdown.

Steady, take it easy - she had to talk herself down, she was falling apart very quickly and was losing control over herself. She had literally cried for over an hour and for some reason, John never left, even telling Amanda to come in when she had something to ask him. She was finally done crying though, she didn't even have the ability to produce tears it seemed - her eyes swollen and puffy. Her cheeks were stained and flushed and she was leaning back against the wall sitting in the bed with a blanket wrapped around herself, clutching it tightly as if it were the only thing holding her together at this juncture.

John had been trying, without much success, to get her to actually speak to him; she needed time to recover, he could see that much. He had left the room to go get her a cup of tea and when he returned and offered it up to her, she didn't even look at him or extend her hands to take it. John sighed deeply and set it down on the table before grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the side of the bed, placing a finger under her chin and lifting her head so she would look at him. Her eyes seemed lifeless to him and he realized that now would not be a good time to start asking questions to get the answers he wanted - she was a shell of herself sitting there before John. Reaching behind him he grabbed the cup of tea again and grabbed her hands, sticking it between them and only offered her a smile. She took the cup but only raised it to her lips once to take a quick sip. The hot liquid that slid down her throat felt good, she was so hoarse from screaming, from crying. She saw John in a much different light at this moment - so patient and understanding, so…father-like. It was a feeling and sensation that left her a little uneasy and she simply resumed sipping at her tea in silence, deep in thought.


	11. Hello Michelle

**- - Flashback - -**

"Good morning Charlotte. Is Michelle in today?" "Well hi there John. Need help with a few things huh? Umm, she is, but she's kind of wandering around in the backroom I think. It might take her a few minutes to come out. Do you want me to help you?" "No it's alright, I'll wait for her. Unless you can go get her for me." his sweet smile convinced her to do just that and she laughed, nodding her head as she disappeared behind the counter. It was a typical slow day in the store today so Michelle had taken the liberty to hang out in the storage room and sort through things and organize them. When Charlotte found her she was sitting down on the floor in the middle of a pile of tons of medical supplies and medications as if the shelf itself had collapsed on top of her. She was picking up bottles and packages, reading the labels and muttering to herself as she set things aside. "Really? People can't organize things? No, of course not. Lets just leave it all to whomever is dumb enough to offer to fix up the store room." "You know talking to yourself isn't very healthy. Do we need to take you to a specialist?" she turned around abruptly to see Charlotte standing behind her with her arms crossed over her chest, smiling. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, tossing a package of med wrap at her co-worker before pushing herself up off the floor, items scattering all over the floor beneath her.

Charlotte shook her head and nodded her head towards the door "John is out there again asking for you. Seems like the old man has a little bit of a crush on you." "Oh god Charlotte, that's disgusting! He just likes me helping him out in the store, more then one customer is like that. Get out of here." "What? It's adorable, come on!" Charlotte smiled and nudged her in the side but her only response was a raised hand waving dismissively at her as Michelle exited the backroom, Charlotte following behind her.

She brushed herself off to remove the random bits of dust clinging to her scrubs before making eye contact with her customer standing patiently behind the counter. He raised a hand to greet her, smiling as she walked over to him. "Hi John, back so soon?" she greeted him like she normally would any other customer even though he seemed to desire only her assistance at work. Charlotte smirked from behind the counter and as John nodded and started to walk down one of the isles, she was abruptly flipped off followed by Michelle sticking her tongue out before following behind him. John looked behind him to make sure Charlotte wasn't looking in on their conversation and then stepped off to the side, Michelle stopping in front of him.

John tilted his head to the side a bit, almost studying her briefly. He really did find this young woman fascinating, cute, intelligent, and overall very sweet - why on earth did she seem so displeased? Sure, she put up a great front but John could easily see beyond the façade she wore so easily. "Do you think it's possible that you have some propylene glycol?" "…the sedative? John, that stuff is…well hospital quality and I'm not sure that I could sell that to you, I mean…what do you need it for?" He had to think carefully about the answer to this, otherwise she might be able to pinpoint exactly what he was intending for the sedative he asked for. Ah, there was the answer "Jill needs some for the clinic and she's also in need of a couple scalpels and Biopolymer."

She looked at him quietly for a moment and couldn't help but to smile. "Alright John, but don't tell anyone I sold this stuff to you or I'm in a lot of trouble, you know? I'll label it as cough syrup or something ridiculous like that so I don't end up with my job on the line. Technically Jill should be coming in here herself to get this stuff…and aren't you guys, I mean, why are you doing this?" She bit her bottom lip, oh wow, she brought up a touchy subject and she hoped she didn't offend him, but clearly she didn't as John smiled softly at her.

"Yes, we're divorced, but I still want to help her as much as I possibly can. She's so busy with the clinic that sometimes the easiest thing is for me to get what she needs for her patients." He placed a hand on her shoulder as he spoke and she nodded before patting his hand with her own and smiling, telling him she'd get everything together now and he just needed to meet her at the register. With that John watched her walk off, sighing and looking around the store. He wondered what her daily regiment consisted of, he couldn't help himself but to think about it, after all she seemed so held together here but he could sense something much different about her that she was hiding. She spoke to him briefly from time to time in the store and he remembered the conversations about her father and her mother's death as well, about her horrible luck with abusive and neglectful boyfriends - everyone had skeletons in their closet.

She got all his supplies together and took them upfront. John was waiting patiently by the register and she smiled, putting her armful of supplies down on the counter. "Alright John, so we have your scalpels, your 'cough syrup' and your Biopolymer. Is that it for you?" He pulled the money from his pocket and it extended it towards her after she gave him his total and as she reached out to grab it he continued to hold onto it for a few moments, Michelle looking at him curious and frowning just a bit. "John…is everything okay?" "Of course I just wanted to say thank you." She nodded and smiled half-heartedly as he released the money and turned to exit the store, but not before looking over his shoulder as he stood at the door to find her watching him carefully with what he could have easily called a solemn expression "I'll see you in two weeks, alright?" She nodded and John left the store, Michelle then looking down to the other item John had hidden in the money. She had yet to open it, but finally unpeeled the little piece of paper and saw nothing more then "cherish your life" written on it. What did he exactly mean by that? She cherished her li--yeah, who was she kidding. She pocketed the little note and went back to the storage room for the rest of her shift.


	12. Cherish Your Life

She made the long journey back home from work, completely exhausted from such a long day in the storage room and from constantly thinking about the little piece of paper John left with her. Granted, he was a wonderful joy to work with, always polite and friendly, loved talking to her, intelligent - pretty much reminded her so much of her father to the point that it hurt sometimes. She tried to shake off the strange look he gave her today, but it was a little bit harder then she anticipated; he seemed so distracted, so uncertain. Charlotte had continued to harass her about John having a "crush" on her at work till the end of her shift - leave it to Charlotte to tell horribly tactless jokes. She cycled through songs on her iPod, trying to find something more comforting and suitable to ease her mind while she rode on the subway. Peering up at the map, she realized her stop was coming up - besides who could even understand the conductors anyway when they sounded like they had socks in their mouths as they spoke over the loud speakers. The doors open and she hopped up, stepping out the door and for a moment she stood on the platform watching the train pass her quickly before disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. She could hear the typical beggars asking for money, the guys playing guitars to try and become "something" more then a squatter on in the subway system and she was guilty of caring about all of them. She dug through her pocket for some change and tossed some in every person's bucket/hat/cup that she passed by. As she got to the top of the steps she closed her eyes, enjoying the much "fresher" air of her neighborhood, the cool, crisp breeze that whipped past her. The street lights were on as the sun had already started to prepare for it's slumber and that was exactly what she needed to do - sleep.

John had followed her from her job all the way to the quiet streets of the pristinely kempt neighborhood she lived in. He watched her behavior with the beggars - such a sympathetic soul, yet she seemed to have little sympathy for herself. John followed behind her very slowly in his car, watching her carefully. She was rubbing her arms to chase the cold away, having forgotten a coat, her midnight colored hair blowing in the cool night air that seemed to envelop her. He had taken the liberty to do a little research and found out that she had been seeing a psychiatrist for some time, he even got the chance to get the information from the notes the psychiatrist took - self loathing, emotionless, overwhelming emotional lacking the ability to express it properly, inability to cry for 6 years, lacks self confidence; it was everything he didn't want to read about such a unique individual, but John knew that the good ones seemed to get broken much more easily then others.

She wanted to get into her apartment and get out of these clothes, heading up to the front door and unlocking it to step inside. She closed the screen door to allow the cool air to circulate through the apartment. She set her keys down on the counter, smiling as she was greeted by a soft mewl and a warm fuzzy kitty rubbing up against her legs before it hopped up on the counter. "Well hello to you too Tiger." scratching behind her cat's ears, she reached into the cabinet above the counter and pulled out a can of food, placing it in the bowl and setting the bowl down on the counter for him. With a quick scratch to his neck, she stepped into the living room to turn on the TV - she liked the background noise, it gave her comfort and made her feel more at home; plus she would be distracted from her thoughts. Stepping into the bedroom, she quickly shed her scrubs and wandered into the bathroom, starting up a bath - there was nothing better after a long day at work. Once her bath was drawn she stepped into it, sinking down into the hot water and closing her eyes as she leaned her head back. She stared at the ceiling for a good 20 minutes, not really thinking of anything at all, and was only snapped out of her daze by Tiger greeting her with a quick rub against her wet arm hanging down the side of the tub before discontentedly prancing out the bathroom "You big baby, it's just water." She smiled and pulled the drain on the tub, drying herself off and putting on some rather comfortable sweat pants a tank top, wandering out into her living room again. On her way she noticed the small paper John gave her laying in the middle of the hallway and picked it up, setting it down on the end table by the couch and heading into the kitchen to make something to eat. Cup-O-Noodles it was; simple and easy, she just added hot water, stirred it up and carried it into the living room with a glass of water, sitting down on the couch. As she propped her feet up she glanced at the TV, the current show on was America's Most Wanted and she idly ate her dinner, watching the various faces pop up on the screen, the various stories…well they were all horribly heartbreaking. Out of the blue she suddenly stopped eating, slowly lowering her fork, her eyes quietly trained on the television as it spoke of Dennis Wilkerson. The name sent chills up her spine, caused her heart to skip a beat, and caused the threat of tears to beg to be released from their cage. The man that killed her mother was on the screen, staring right back at her, heartless, still at large, still killing innocent people and to make matters worse, they started to talk about her mother's death, about how she was brutally murdered, about how she suffered - oh god. She felt sick, quickly setting her dinner down on the table with the spoon next to it and sat up on the edge of the couch. She quickly found the remote and changed the channel, then leaned forward, folding her hands and placing them over her mouth before dropping her head down.

Scattered on the table were light blue colored pills mixed with some white ones. She was unconscious on the couch, Tiger rubbing against her hand trying desperately to get her to get up and give him attention, but there was no way he was going to wake her up. The screen door opened and her cat quickly took off, hiding under the bed in the bedroom. John slowly walked through her house, peering into the kitchen briefly before looking around the corner to see her lying on the couch - more then likely she was asleep and he didn't want her to wake up. He had been watching her house cautiously to see if anything unusual was going on, had looked through the window a couple times and saw nothing abnormal, but what he saw before he turned around changed his mind. The pills scattered across the table, the paper he gave her sitting there on the table with the words "cherish your life" glaring daggers at the limp body of the girl lying on the couch. John sighed, clearly distressed by what he saw; no, not her, she didn't need to fall victim like so many others. He was furious but sad at the same time, slowly walking over to the girl and kneeling down in front of the couch. He took hold of her wrist, checking for a pulse which luckily was still there, but very shallow - so this is what she did every day after work. It wasn't normally in John's nature to really handle his "prospects" but he couldn't just leave her here like this. He grabbed a blanket from off the back of the couch and draped it over her, looking down at her for quite some time; she deserved so much more then this, he had to at least try and save her from this life she was living…even if she died trying. Although John felt a sense of concern, he was clearly furious over her horrible choice to basically starve herself of life. Shaking his head, he scowled and walked back out of her home, turning off the light in the hallway and shutting the door behind him. It was time and he had all he needed - the game needed to begin and she was his next endeavor.

**- - End Flashback - -**


	13. I Dispise Murders

_All is lost again, but I'm not giving in. I will not bow, I will not break, I will shut the world away. I will not fall, I will not fade, I will take your breath away. And I'll survive, paranoid, I have lost the will to change. And I'm not proud, cold blooded, fake, I will shut the world away._

She was leaning back in a chair, her feet propped up on one of the tables with her headphones shoved tightly into her ears. She had a book in hand, flipping through the pages lackadaisically and looking over notes John had written in it - the content of the book being of a scientific nature; surgeries, functions of the human nervous system. It was strangely eerie to see someone so overly fascinated with the human body and mind that wasn't a doctor, but clearly she had learned that John's work more then likely demanded this kind of knowledge. It wasn't that she really wanted to be involved, she had just been creating ways to distract herself as of lately; well, ever since the events that happened in the parking lot that night. She still had yet to talk to John about what happened and she planned on keeping it a secret - she took Hoffman's threat very much to heart. She had been quiet for the past few days, completely enclosed inside a protective bubble she created for herself and anytime Hoffman entered the room she could feel her blood turn cold. Hoffman even got cocky enough to always ensure he was closer to her then her comfort level indicated was appropriate. She felt sick every single time he was in her presence and had yet to really eat anything worthwhile, but she managed. John was still suspicious and she could feel his suspicions getting much heavier simply with the way he looked at her sometimes, simply with the way he _always_, as of lately, wanted to sit with her at night before she fell asleep and just…talk.

Jigsaw was learning very quickly that when she intended to hole up and keep herself private from those around her, there was no amount of persuasion that would cause her to let down her guard. Her boot tapped lightly on the table to the rhythm of the music confining her within a world of peace for the time being. She was entirely unaware of the dark figure moving very quickly up from behind her as she skimmed over a page about the neurological firing of the human brain in response to pain so she was startled when someone reached over her and grabbed the book, yanking it out of her hands. Quickly putting her feet down, she twisted in her chair to look behind her but not before the individual behind her grabbed one of her earbuds and yanked it out of her ear. Her eyes met those of Amanda and for a moment the two simply stared at one another quietly before Amanda smirked and looked down at the book still slightly open in her hands.

Amanda knew curiosity would get the best of this girl, after all it seemed she was here to stay against Amanda's desires. She slammed the book shut and then walked closer, placing her hand on the back of the chair Michelle was currently sitting in. She could see her tense as if preparing for her to do something unpleasant, but Amanda couldn't quite decide what she wanted to do at this juncture. She set the book down on the table Michelle's feet were propped on and as quickly as she did, her hand moved from the back of the chair to the girl's hair, yanking her head back as she leaned down to bring her lips closer to her ear so she could hear even the softest of audible whispers Amanda could muster. "Don't touch things that don't belong to you without permission, especially things that belong to John." Shoving Michelle's head forward and releasing her hair, Amanda smirked at the expression of distaste on her face and how she slightly rubbed the back of her neck where her hair pulled.

"…I meant nothing by it, I was bored and I wanted something to look at. The only thing to do in this place is read unless you want to murder an innocent person, then this is a fucking playground for psychos like you." Her words came out very sour, very intense, and very strong, but more then likely this would backfire on her. She didn't even recognize the way everything she said sounded with the tone she was using until she was done - the pent up frustration and anger at not only being her but being tormented by Hoffman and holding it in must have finally surfaced.

Amanda sneered but quickly her sneer was followed by a rather sadistic smirk. She walked over to the edge of the table, fingers slowly running over a misplaced scalpel that rested there before wrapping around the handle. She ran her thumb over the blade and as it pierced the skin she shuddered ever so slightly. As the girl stood up, Amanda continued to walk towards her, watching her back herself into a corner in the room. There was something so thrilling about watching people she felt were undeserving of John's affections and appreciation nervously avoid her. After all, it was important that everyone knew that John was _hers_ and she had no intention of sharing. She moved quickly as soon as Michelle's back was against the wall in the room and grabbed the collar of her shirt, slamming her forcefully into the wall and pressing the scalpel against her abdomen. The sensation of the scalpel slowly pressing against soft flesh sent chills down her spine and she smiled with a sick satisfaction. "We need to come to an understanding, alright? John…is an amazing person and a selfish cunt like yourself doesn't deserve his gifts. I don't know why he's keeping you around but I assure you that when he's done with you, I will revel in the knowledge of your impending death. Now, if you do anything stupid I will not hesitate to make an example of you, do we understand one another? Back off and learn your place here." Amanda peered into the eyes of someone who normally would have cowered, however she saw something very different behind the eyes of this woman. She seemed resolute, much stronger, and rather annoyed by this "inconvenience". She refused to take her eyes off the young woman, both of them staring each other down, almost as if they were studying one another. Finally Amanda released her, but not after pressing harder with the scalpel to drive her point home. Stepping back slowly, she smirked and turned around, setting the scalpel down and placing her thumb in her mouth to taste the metallic sweetness of her own blood flowing from the cut.

She took a deep breath, the entire time Amanda had her within arms reach she could feel her heart pounding fiercely against her chest - however for the first time since she got here she felt a tinge of anger creep up in her at the treatment she was enduring and instead of fear, she was operating on adrenaline; strange. She slowly lifted the hem of her shirt to peer at where the scalpel was to make sure it didn't break the skin considering she could feel a slight pinch where it was pressed - good, nothing. Rolling her shirt back down she watched Amanda, shaking her head ever so slightly and still remained unmoving from her spot against the wall. "You fucking need help, do you know that? I don't want John, so you can have him. I have no say in anything that's been happening so far anyway, so what makes you think I'm making these choices?" She received no answer and simply watched as Amanda pressed her bleeding thumb into her mouth, making a bit of a disgusted face before slowly moving away from the wall and grabbing her iPod that had tumbled to the floor in the tussle. Well, that was fantastic, she just lost her sanctuary in this hell hole as the electronic device didn't fair very well to a concrete floor. Sighing, she tucked it away into her pocket as Amanda turned to face her, chuckling just a bit as she did so.

"Oh I know about the 'choices' that weren't yours. Funny thing is…I think you deserved every bit of it." Amanda knew she would pick up on what she was talking about. Oh yes, Amanda knew about Hoffman's rape of the young woman, in fact even though she hated him, she was more then pleased by his behavior. This little bitch deserved every single minute of every moment of pain she suffered at Hoffman's hands - too bad Amanda couldn't have delivered a different kind of pain her way. She knew that she wouldn't tell John because if there was anything about Hoffman she was clearly aware of herself and figured was easy to pick up on, it was that Hoffman would willingly kill anyone who jeopardized his well being in any fashion. She tossed her head slightly to get a strand of hair out of her face before walking towards her one last time, but simply to pass her. She stopped briefly next to her and leaned her head to the side, peering in her direction "Remember what we walked about. Don't make me teach you a real lesson about life." With that she exited the room behind the plastic flaps, leaving Michelle standing there even more frustrated then she was when she first got here.


	14. Fix Me

After her encounter with Amanda she had found that boredom was a bit of a demon here in this place. She found herself examining the various trap ideas strew throughout the lair and at one point envisioned what an incomplete trap would do when it was finished - oh god, that was not okay. To keep herself from going insane from boredom and from admiring the designs of a deranged man too much, she opted to sit down and just reflect on her life previously and where it was now. It was amazing what she started to realize about herself and about the people she surrounded herself with. Even more so the people who wanted to surround her that she shunned or overlooked simply to have a personal pity party - it was depressing, but it was something that made her feel so much better now that she was coming to terms with it; perhaps this is what John was getting at. Before she could get too deep into her own thoughts, she was abruptly interrupted by John walking through the front door of the lair with Amanda and Hoffman in tow. Quietly she watched the exchange between the three of them which is something she had been doing quite frequently lately - observation gave her a front row seat of the dysfunction of this eclectic family of individuals. Amanda was horribly possessive of John and it seemed her love for him was much more then what John was willing to reciprocate; his affections seemed to be solely that of a father figure who cared deeply for his child and her life. Hoffman was cold and callous, often times feeling as though he had a much more concrete knowledge of John's work then Amanda herself did, however he wasn't as intelligent as he believed himself to be; he clearly made mistakes often times when helping with the building of traps and sometimes very important information regarding trap "subjects" slipped his mind. Clearly Hoffman was sometimes frustrating for John to deal with, so much so that John would often send him out to do something else - primarily because it was as if John was dealing with a sister and brother that literally wanted to kill one another and seemed to, in their own ways, fight for the affections of their father. It was entertaining at times and also a bit unsettling to discover what appeared to be the true natures of both of these mentally instable individuals…you could also say they almost lacked what traditional views would call a "soul".

John dismissed Amanda and Hoffman, watching them as they both passed by the young woman standing in the middle of the room. He watched them carefully for a reason - he saw the way they looked at her, the expressions on their faces, and how they seemed to have an air of dominance about them. John taught those who didn't appreciate their lives to do just that, he taught Amanda to carry on his work and Hoffman to assist, but he did not teach either one of them to attempt to break and destroy the spirit of another. However, when John expected to see someone a bit down trodden with the expressions she was getting, he instead started to see a glimmer of a more confident and less tolerant young woman. Her perceived confidence caused him to smile just slightly, he however had to help correct the lack of tolerance she appeared to be displaying - he didn't need to have another "struggle" on his hands with a third, highly potential student. He set down the bag in his arms and approached her as the other two left the room, placing his hands on her shoulders before letting go and walking past her. "How was your day today?" he listened intently as he looked over his books noticing the one of them was missing and smirked to himself - he knew she would eventually crack and need to find something to entertain herself with.

"Oh. Umm, fine I guess. Except for my untimely death of my only form of entertainment to keep me from going completely insane here." She glared a bit at him, still frustrated over the fact that she was trapped here, but clearly John was amused at the way in which she described the broken electronic device she used to drown him out.

"Perhaps now I can get you to listen to what I do when I work." "Yes John, cause I want to be a serial killer like you." It was short and snippy and John wasn't too keen on her tone, but he would let it slide for the moment, turning to look at her and clearly he noticed she realized the way in which she spoke to him since she was looking at the floor. He walked over to her and placed a finger under her chin and force her to look at him, but when he did he was a bit surprised to find tears brimming in her eyes only to start to trail down her cheeks. Strange, she never cried in front of him willingly before; perhaps he finally was breaking down her resolve and would be able to get her to open up to him. "Now what's this? No need for tears or is there something you would like to finally talk to me about? You need to learn to allow yourself to be healed, to be fixed. You've been fighting so hard against me for this long, it's time to let down the wall."

She was angry at herself for crying there before the Jigsaw killer, but she honestly couldn't help herself this time - all the anger, fear, frustration, confusion, hurt, and suffering was bubbling out of control within her at this point; who knew her confrontation with Amanda would incite this kind of response. She reached up and brushed the tears off her cheeks and out of her eyes as best she could, but for some reason they wouldn't stop this time around and she felt herself cracking, losing control of her resolve, and ready to give in to John Kramer. It was what he wanted all this time and she was about to give him exactly what he wanted. She didn't know what overcame her but as she looked away from him briefly to try and stop the flow of tears, she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle herself.

John watched her start to lose control of herself, as if watching a glass window start to spider after getting a tiny crack that's set for a couple of weeks, expanding under the pressure of an intense cold. He realized they were close within earshot of Amanda and Hoffman, so he grabbed her hand and guided her into his work space that typically was his private domain, motioning towards the bed to get her to sit down. Her response wasn't what he expected, but she shook her head no and dropped her head as if in shame, causing John to raise a brow slowly. "No no. There's no reason to hang your head. We all have scars to hide from our pasts." He placed his hands on either side of her face and lifted her head to look at him and was a bit startled by the feel of hands wrapping around his own, but she was squeezing with a ferocity that John wasn't entirely familiar with - she was the rare occasion where someone would get close enough to him after meeting their own demise. He peered into her blood shot eyes, his lips now a thin line as he tried to urge her to speak to him by indicating he was clearly listening to her and her alone.

"Fuck…me…" she was stuttering a bit as she tried to control her unfortunate breakdown that she was trying to avoid like the plague. She took a deep breath, trying to stop the tears, trying to get enough air to speak a clear sentence - but he said he would kill her, oh god, she couldn't tell him, he would know she told him. With their close proximity at this time John could clearly see the scar on her neck that was slowly healing and it was as if a light went off in his head, the wheels started turning, and the revelation became clear.

John's tight lipped expression turned to a frown as he grabbed one of her wrist and tilted her head back with his other hand, dropping her hand away that he had grabbed hold of and reached up, slowly running his finger over the wound that was healing. She involuntarily trembled and as she did so, he reached down, grasping his wrist harshly and doing the same with the other. "Look at me!" as she looked up at him, he took a deep breath, trying to keep his frustration under control - he had to control his anger even though it was boiling under the surface. "What really happened that night you went with Detective Hoffman to get the test subject? He said you were attacked by the subject with a pocket knife and you verify this story…" He wanted a straight answer and she suddenly looked completely caught off guard and nervous, shaking her head as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "Answer me! What happened? The scar on your neck is clearly from a blade with a serrated edge which wouldn't fit together with the story of a pocket knife being used. I know of one person with a knife that like that would have been present during that time…" He was now getting forceful and when she tried to pull away he pulled her closer, aggressively, not allowing the distance between them. He started to watch her cower before him and although John didn't want her to fear him, at this rate he was furious with the secret she had been keeping from him - he knew the answer, but he wanted her to tell him. "Tell me!!!"

His shouting at her was enough to make her fall apart, his tone of voice and the force in which he held her wrists caused her to flinch. He kept prying and pushing and finally she lost control of her ability to keep it a secret from him any longer. "OKAY!!! Stop!" she started to cry uncontrollably again as John refused to let go of her, refused to stop scrutinizing her. "Hoffman raped me that night, okay?! Are you fucking happy that you know?!! FUCK!" When he let go of her wrists after her confession she stumbled backwards a bit, wrapping her arms around herself and dropping her head, her tears hitting the floor before her feet. She didn't want to look at him, she just wanted to crawl within herself and hide, she wanted to end her suffering here and now…but she knew Jigsaw would never allow that. "He said he would kill me…he said he would kill me if I told you…shit…"

John watched her walls collapse and at the moment he couldn't find satisfaction in it. She should have told him, why wouldn't she? How could she believe he wouldn't care and where would she get that idea? She had no need to fear Mark with him there, he would never allow something to happen to her, he--. He took a moment to collect himself, but when she started to losing control and admitted that Hoffman had threatened her life he once again spoke with a cool and collected yet very enraged tone "How could you keep this a secret from me?! What where you thinking? Don't you trust me?! What have I been trying to teach you? Do you just ignore everything I've told you, everything I've tried to teach you?!" He looked directly at her and saw her sink into herself, sink into a world where she felt safe and there was no way he could allow her to close up again - not with him. Collecting himself he sighed, the sound of her sobs striking an unusual cord in John "Jigsaw" Kramer that he hadn't experienced since Amanda. Stepping closer to her, John wrapped his arms around the broken mess before him and pulled her to his chest, placing a hand on the back of her head and not allowing her to break the contact they currently had. John was frustrated, infuriated with Detective Hoffman's behavior, but there was time later to sort that out, to punish appropriately - at the current moment he had this "project" to focus on. John smiled as he felt the ultimate sacrifice come from this strong-willed young woman as she finally could no longer avoid his "love" and ended up melting into his embrace - he felt her whole body go limp, felt the tension leak out through the salty expressions of sorrow that left those vibrant green eyes. Now the true healing could begin and John truly succeeded in teaching the most valuable lesson this prospect would carry with her from this point on - to **trust in him**.


	15. She Swims in My Sea

The days following her confession to John were followed by, to her surprise, nights of being able to sleep. In fact it may have helped that John had been spending so much time working at his desk at night, in the same exact room she found herself slipping into the world of dreams. But her dreams still lacked the ability to be soothing, comforting. Instead she found herself waking up in cold sweats, staring aimlessly at a wall trying to collect her thoughts. Every time she awoke, John would pause briefly in his work and just listen closely - always relieved that she would eventually settle back down and go back to sleep.

John Kramer found himself getting up from his work station at night lately to get himself a glass of water - he was working hard to create a very special, very important trap and he had so many intricate little details to attend to. However, while he was up, he often took a few minutes of his time to walk over to the sleeping girl in his bed, curled up tightly in the sheets in an attempt to block out anything that could possibly invade her space - inanimate and animate alike. At times John would sit on the edge of the bed when she was tightly curled into such a small space and simply watch her for a bit - she seemed so peaceful at times and then there were the few moments where John could watch the panic and fear start to wash over her as her nightmares took hold. In those moments, when he was there, he would place a hand on her back in an attempt to chase away her demons and more often then not, his firm yet comforting touch would stop her from her stirring and she would fall back to sleep. He was gaining control of her and it was exactly what he wanted and his approach was gentle yet firm, which at this juncture seemed to be exactly what she needed. Jigsaw himself found that even his own demons were creeping into his consciousness from time to time. After she confessed to him what Hoffman had done, he could feel his blood boil every time he was near the man - Hoffman clearly had not learned what Jigsaw intended to teach; appreciation of ALL life, not just his own. He, however, had stopped all possible contact between Michelle and Hoffman, stepping in between them when Hoffman would attempt to get close to her and even sending her away when Hoffman was in the room. Just thinking about what had happened to the girl, especially after she told him in detail what had occurred, made John Kramer turn back into the media hyped Jigsaw within an instant. No one interfered with his work…_no one_.

The day found her standing outside in the fresh air for the first time in a very long time by herself, no one to watch her, no one with her, it was just…her. She closed her eyes and took a moment to take it all in even though it was only a brief few minutes she was allowed to be out. Glancing at the watch that was on her wrist, she noted that her time was getting short and if she wanted to make it back in time she better get what she needed and get back. She stepped into the small convenience store on the corner of the street and moved through the isles picking up the necessities scribbled on the piece of paper in her hand. Cereal, tea, milk, sugar - they were all small things, but clearly he felt he could trust her enough to pick them up and return to the lair. In fact, the biggest reason he sent her out was her interaction with Hoffman this morning, still very fresh in her mind, and more so was his reaction to Hoffman's behavior.

**- - flashback - -**

Hoffman had come up behind her while she was getting a glass of water and trapped her between himself and the sink. She kept trying to avoid looking at him but he actually got brazen enough to grab her face and force her to look at him. Her whole body tensed with their contact, she tried desperately to get away, and Hoffman had the biggest scowl on his face - did he know? No, he didn't know but he guessed with the way John was acting towards him, the way John kept separating them every single moment they were in the same room together. It was John that ended this interaction and much more aggressively then Hoffman was aware he was capable of.

"Let go of her." it was a demand and it was clear, mentioned in an intensely gruff voice. John came up behind the detective and placed his hand on his shoulder, his grip rather tight to indicate that he was not playing around. Hoffman looked over his shoulder at John, very slowly and deliberately releasing her face. She didn't move yet, just stayed plastered against the sink, her breathing steady but rather shallow at the moment. John released his grip on Hoffman's shoulder as he turned around to face him, smiling and raising his hands in defense "I was just…" "You were doing nothing. You'll leave her alone and go do what I told you to do earlier. And if you ever touch her again…" This time Mark could see the anger in John's eyes, the fury, and that was when it clicked. He eyed the girl from over his shoulder, shooting her a stare that clearly said "you're as good as dead" before he adjusted his shirt and tie and exited the room.

**- - end flashback - -**

She felt a momentarily flash of chills run down her spine as she stood at the counter, the clerk repeating the total to her once more to snap her back to reality. She pulled the money out of her pocket that John had given her and handed it over - exact change, hmm, John must have done this run numerous times before. She took the bag of groceries and left the store, walking back down the quiet sidewalk. She peered up atthe sky for a moment as she felt a few drops of rain but those few drops quickly started to pick up pace. Grabbing the hood of the cloak John offered her to wear, she pulled it over her head before picking up the pace to get back in time. She pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped inside before closing it behind her, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. "Right on time. Very good." the voice caused her to startle just a bit simple because she wasn't expecting someone to be right there, however John was clearly waiting patiently for her return. He took the bag of groceries from her and as he did she reached up and pushed the hood down off her head before pulling the cloak off and heading down the stairs to drape it over a chair.

John put the groceries away, smiling all the while to no one in particular - he was pleased with her, she finally was starting to come around just the way he wanted. He figured he could trust her, but he was simply waiting for her because of the fact that it was the first time she left the lair with no one else around - she was on her own and she was given instructions, rules if you will, and followed them perfectly. As he stood up from the fridge, he walked back into the other room to see her removing the watch and setting it down on a table. Stepping up to her, he took her hands in his own, watching the expression of confusion and surprise both wash over at the same time and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "I have something very important that you need to do. Consider this…a 'lesson' for the amount of time you kept such an important secret from me." He felt her tense as if she were anticipating him inserting a needle into her neck and dragging her into a room to hook her up to a trap, but that was the furthest from the truth. He had no intention to put her through that again, she learned enough from her trap and she was finally opening up to him - to put her in another trap would only set John back from the progress he was making. "No no, you won't be involved in another trap, however it is time for you to…see my work and not escape from it. It's critical that you see death up close and I will be there with you the whole time. You have nothing to fear." He used the grasp he had on her hands to pull her closer to him and although he felt a little bit of resistance, she was much easier then in the past to get to his chest. With one hand still holding her hands, he raised the other to her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

It was that moment of oddly placed tenderness that caught her off guard. She peered up at the man standing before her, a look of nothing more then confusion crossing her features, but as time went on the confusion faded and she seemed…calm. She even felt calm and relaxed within the "lion's den" so to speak. She pulled one of her hands free and reached up to place it on his hand, slowly pulling it away from her face. As she did so, she couldn't help but smile just a bit herself as John smirked slightly and released her wrists, motioning for her to follow him. Against everything screaming within the confines of her soul, she followed this man who seemed to have "adopted" her through the doorway to what would be the hardest _lesson _of her life.


	16. This is Your Test

As night fell on a city bustling with life while Michelle sat quietly within the confines of what was slowly becoming a sanctuary from the life outside - in here nothing could touch her, nothing could change her, and nothing would corrupt her; it was exactly what John Kramer wanted for her. She knew nothing could prepare her for what she would soon become a "student" to, an accomplice to something insanely sinister that even if she wanted to avoid it, John wouldn't allow it this time…this was her punishment and her teaching all the same. While John "worked" throughout the day to get things together for tonight she took some time to just relax. Amanda and Hoffman had been gone all day so she had the opportunity to sit in the lair in complete silence. She even found a pencil and a few scraps of paper and just started to draw - although clearly she wasn't drawing traps and torture devices, instead she idly played around with the few little artistic skills she had learned in college. She slowly traced the outline of a tree she drew, the branches stretching the length of the paper, twisting and turning like the road her life took. The pencil moved slowly in spite of her lack of focus, still following the contours of the drawing, bringing the tree on the paper to life. It got her thinking as she looked down at the paper how John had brought her to life - she was dead alive in the world until she found herself facing her own mortality in a frightening world of death and sorrow. Her life was difficult and adversity had chased her down every road she turned but in the end she could be dead and that was the simple reality. She set the pencil down on the table and turned to look over as John entered the room - his expression was stoic, as if he were deep in thought himself.

John walked over to her, glancing down at the drawing on the piece of paper in front of her - she had talent, a natural knack it seemed…perhaps he could convince her to join him in creating at his desk but there was plenty of time for that to happen. Right now he had other plans, plans for her to join him, to watch him set up a game, to watch the results, and through the entire process he would be there to comfort her, to teach her, and to make sure she didn't escape him this time. In spite of himself, John felt his affections for the young woman increasing - she was such a joy to be around now that she wasn't so tight-lipped and aggressive towards him, but she was still a challenge and that's what John loved so much. Amanda had opened up to him rather easily after her ordeal but Michelle was notably more resistant. John had to be careful though, especially around Amanda; she was his protégé, his legacy and he had to ensure she didn't feel as though this girl was going to take her place. Michelle's purpose wasn't to continue his legacy, in fact John slowly started to figure out what her purpose really was in his life. As the cancer in his body was slowly destroying him, John craved a companion of sorts, someone who could remain by his side while Amanda continued his work. She was the perfect candidate to help care for John, to help Amanda avoid getting so overwhelmed with him that she couldn't focus her energy on their dreams - Michelle had the training and the ability to gain the supplies to care for him in his final days but he needed her to trust him enough that she could be with him wherever he was, whatever he was doing. He placed a hand on her back and extended a hand towards the doorway that led to a hallway she had never been in yet; John never wanted her to wander away from the lair by herself due to the apprehension of having her lose control over what she would more then likely see.

Standing up from the chair, she obediently followed John as he headed out of the "sanctuary" she knew and led her through a dark hallway. She felt her steps becoming more labored against her will, but she was already overwhelmed with strange feelings of discomfort and fear - everything about this hallway caused her skin to crawl. John moved slowly, checking over his shoulder repeatedly to make sure she was still coming, that she was okay. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the uncomfortable chill that was washing over her. They passed by multiple doors, some of which were still closed, some of which were open. As they continued she noted a bloody shirt and felt her stomach drop and she looked down at the ground to see a trail of blood. Her eyes widened for a moment and she bit her bottom lip nervously, slowly backing away until she felt a hand grab her own and pull her. She stumbled a bit, still resisting his pull a bit but John wouldn't allow her to back away from this. He continued walking, holding her hand tightly and practically pulling her down the hallway until he felt a bit of slack and realized she was now right behind him. Her fingers curled around John's hand and she found herself squeezing even though that wasn't her intention; but some form of comfort was better then none at all at this point.

John smiled and pulled Michelle to walk beside him, placing a hand on her shoulder as they walked together. She paused from time to time in their journey, but who could blame her. This wasn't exactly the easiest thing to deal with, after all in each one of these rooms someone's game started and often times ended where it began. Often times John found himself wandering this hallway alone at night, admiring the work he had created, the work Amanda had helped him with. He stopped in front of a door and pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking it and opening it, motioning for her to step in before him. Her look of apprehension told John that he would have his work cut out for him in this endeavor. As she slowly walked past him, not taking her eyes off of him the entire time she passed by, he stepped in behind her and shut the door.

Laying on the floor in the middle of a room had to have been a man in his mid 30s, motionless, unconscious, and unaware of their presence. Michelle tried to focus her eyes in this room as it was a great deal brighter then the hallway they had walked through. In the corner of the room was a small TV, causing her to feel slightly sick to her stomach at the memory of her own encounter. She felt John's hand on her back to bring her back to the reality of the situation at this moment and she looked over at him as he walked past her. Stepping around to the man on the floor, he looked up at her, his face quickly displaying a much more serious expression then the comforting and soft smile he afforded her in the hallway "Grab his feet." She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head "no" before looking at the floor, placing a hand on the back of her neck. She could feel the tears threatening to break the threshold and was quickly brought out of her trance by a much angrier Jigsaw. "Michelle. Grab his feet. Don't make this into something it doesn't have to be. Do you understand me?" She looked up at him and sighed, nodding before slowly approaching the man on the floor. She could see the "that'a girl" expression on his face as she grabbed the man's legs. He was definitely heavy and she understood why John insisted on her helping him, she even had a hard time holding onto his legs as they walked him over to the wall and leaned him up against it only briefly. Sitting just inches from where the man was placed against the wall was a chair and upon further investigation she could see that there was a type of collar attached to the chair. Behind it spokes and wheels were attached to mechanics to cause something on the chair to crank and move - it looked as though the collar was meant to tighten and cause asphyxiation. She stood there by the man watching John tweak a few things on the chair, ensuring the restraints could be broken as they needed to be. As she glanced down at the victim she noticed that he had a laceration in his side that was roughly stitched up, curiosity overwhelming her in regards to what on earth was stitched into his side. As John moved his hand off the armrest of the chair she noticed there was a scalpel taped down to it. As John finished up his work he looked over at her and then to the test subject leaning against the wall "Put him in the chair." She could feel the nausea creeping up again, but she didn't want to anger John, didn't want to disappoint him and end up in another trap so she slid behind the man, pushing him up off the wall with her knee and then wrapped her arms around his chest from underneath his arms. He was insanely heavy for her, she could at least drag him most of the way over to John. Grunting a bit with his weight, it was a bit of a struggle, but she managed to get him in the chair, John watching her the entire time, studying her every move and reaction.

Once he was in the chair, John strapped down his wrists and ankles. The restraints could easily be snapped and broken only consisting of rope which is exactly what John wanted. He snapped the collar around the man's neck and locked the collar in the back, kneeling down and setting the timer. Once the timer was set he attached the pull pin wire to the man's left wrist and stepped back, examining his work closely, ensuring everything was in line like it was supposed to be. Walking over to the TV, he left Michelle standing there in silence, knowing that at this moment he need not explain anything, there would be time for that later, she just needed to observe. He set the TV and then turned around, heading towards the door and on his way placed his hand on her back and guided her out the door. "_Now _you will see how someone learns to value their life."


	17. You Can Dispense Justice

She felt relieved to be out of that room but unfortunately this task wasn't done and she had a bad feeling about what she was soon to be part of. When they had finally gotten back into the lair to sit down in front of the monitors John was surprisingly comforting, asking her if she was alright and if she needed to talk about anything, but really…what was she going to say? "You're a psycho"? "I'm not a killer like you"? No, she just took some time to check her mental state as she sat there in the room. She was kind of zoning out there by herself before John walked in with a glass of water and handed it over to her. As he sat down she couldn't ignore the sudden coughing fit that he started to break into. It was so violent and aggressive that he was doubled over, fighting to keep it under control. She was starting to care for his well-being and she was aware of the type of cancer he had and how it was slowly killing him. She scooted her chair closer to him and placed her hand on his back patting and rubbing it to try and help him get over the fit. He finally started to slow down and she had yet to take a drink of the water in the glass so she extended it to him and he gladly took it, taking a drink from the straw floating around within the glass - she still didn't get that, he always put a straw in the glass, but she never used straws and he always did.

John was unprepared for the coughing fit that took hold and it was the first time that she had seen him in that position - he almost never wanted her to even though she was aware of his cancer and it's effects on his body. After the cool water eased his pained and raw throat he cleared it and handed the glass back to her. That was exactly what he was waiting to see; was she bonding to him? When he looked up to see a soft smile it took him a bit by surprise; her softer side was probably even a mystery to herself, but John was slowly pulling every part of her out and piecing it back together. He handed her the glass back and watched her set it down on the table in front of them before he turned to the monitors and waited patiently for his subject to awaken. This would be the true test of her resolve and of how she handled something so close to the heart - that's right, John picked a familiar face to show her how justice could be dispensed with his method…she just needed to handle it better then Amanda had handled her subjects so far; the last thing John wanted was to see her crumble like Amanda and lose control of herself. He wanted a completed project when he was done, not a work in progress, though god knew he loved Amanda dearly.

After a good 20 minutes the man in the room came to life once again, coming out of a groggy trance, his head swaying from side to side as he tried to clear his vision. He blinked a couple times to adjust his eyes to the darkness before bright lights buzzed on above his head, coming on one at a time, causing him to drop his head forward to wince. "Sonuvabitch…" After his eyes adjusted he looked around the room, narrowing his gaze a bit and looking down at his wrists. Panic slowly set in and for a moment it was purely rage before the TV in the room buzzed on. Whipping his head around to look at the TV, Billy greeted him with the same stoic expression he greeted all of Jigsaw's victims.

"Hello Dennis. You may be wondering why you're here. Your entire life you have preyed on the innocent, robbing those unable to defend themselves with whatever weapon you had available. All of your victims suffered the same fate - believing that if they provided you with what you demanded that you would release them but instead you chose to selfishly take their lives. Murder has been your game for years, but do you remember the night you stumbled upon an innocent woman taking her things to the car? Do you remember how you insisted she hand over her purse which she willingly did? Do you remember your hands around her throat, the way she pleaded with you because she had a daughter she wanted to watch grow up, a family that she loved? That night a young woman lost everything in her life to your selfishness - her mother was all she had left. Tonight you will feel the pain you have caused others directly and indirectly. The device around your neck will slowly start to tighten, cutting off your airway when the timer starts that is unless you can get the key and unlock the collar. But in order to get the key you will have to cause yourself the pain you have caused many. You have 60 seconds. Live or die Dennis, make your choice."

"Fuck!" Dennis' struggled against the restraints, pulling as hard as he could before he finally pulled his wrists free of the ropes holding them down. As his left arm jerked violently upward, the pull pin snapped out of place, the eerie sound of a clock ticking down ringing through his ears. He could hear gears moving and grinding and blindly started to claw at the collar around his neck. He screamed like a wounded animal as he twisted around, noting the pain shooting through his side. Dropping his right hand down, his fingers traced over the stitching in his side, the stretch of the wound and he started to panic. He was practically foaming at the mouth, hands shaking as they tugged uselessly at the collar around his neck. One click singled the closing of the collar just a few inches, but enough for him to notice the change in space. He looked down at the armrest of the chair and noticed the scalpel, ripping it out from under the tape and looking down at his side as a shaky hand lowered it down to his side. He brought the blade just inches from the laceration before screaming and pulling away "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! I'm sorry!!! I'm fucking sorry!" His pleading and cries for help went unheard so in his desperation her lowered the scalpel once more, trembling as he seethed, closing his eyes and preparing for the pain that was soon to follow.

Michelle sat quietly in the room, her hands cupped over her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She could feel her lips quiver as she fought desperately to stop the pain of the memories that flooded her senses. She had no idea who this man was at first glance but when John told her who it was she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces all over again. She couldn't fight the memory of the day she got the phone call at work that he mother had been found dead in the parking lot. The nausea she felt afterwards was only a precursor to the anger that overwhelmed her so deeply that she had to be helped to the airport by her co-worker. She had collapsed in the middle of the terminal that day, sobbing uncontrollably, screaming that it wasn't fair to anyone who would listen and if Teresa had not offered to fly back home with her, she probably wouldn't have returned alive. She remembered the funeral, the blistering wind that couldn't even wake her from her trance, the sorrowful songs in the church, staring at her mother's casket, and the final breakdown as she collapsed on top of what remained of her memories in the middle of the cemetery. She spent hours on her knees until Teresa picked her up and took her home. The next few months were agonizing and at this moment in the lair she pulled her hands away from her mouth and looked down at the marks on her wrists, tears uncontrollably trailing down her cheeks. John was the only thing there right now in her world of nothing, holding her wrists, thumbs stroking her wrists and tracing over the healed lacerations. He said nothing to her, just offered a silent comfort that she was taking without any resistance. She looked up at the monitor again, trying to see through her tears and could feel a strange sense of anger creep over her. She pulled her wrists from John's hands and placed her hands over her face before wiping the tears from her eyes, her lips pursed tightly.

He could see the anger creeping into her state of mind, could see that rage coming to the surface - a rage she kept pent up for so many years. He could feel the tension starting to fill the room and quickly reached over, placing a finger under her chin and turning her to face him "I know you're angry, it's understandable. You've spent years holding this anger at your mother's killer inside but now, now you'll see justice being dispensed. He still had a chance to learn from his mistake, to value not only his life but the life of others as well." "He can burn in hell for all I care…" "No no, look at me, listen. You're not him, you're not a murderer, you're better then that." He could feel her slowly start to calm down, but it was a very slow process and he had to contain her anger before it got out of control. He watched his young prospect keep her eyes trained on the monitors, almost unmoving, eerily calm in this very moment.

Dennis finally cut the key out of his side, growling as he reached in and grabbed the key, now bleeding all over the floor from the newly opened wound. He only had 5 seconds left since he spent so much time struggling to even dare to cut his own flesh and now the collar was so tight, he was starting to turn blue. His airway was almost closed shut and he flailed aimlessly trying to move his arm to get the key behind his head. The key was slippery with blood and as he fumbled to try and get the key in the lock, it slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor behind the chair. He tried to scream but there was no air left and as he gasped, the last 5 seconds of his life ticked down on the timer under the chair. The collar had been cutting into his skin as it had tightened, the metal digging into soft flesh causing bruising and red ligature marks. 3...2...1 the gears cranked, the murderer took his last breath and with a loud snapping sound, the collar closed tighter, completely shutting off his airway. His head fell forward, the force of the tightened metal around his neck causing his neck to snap with the violent jerking of his head and there he lay, blood trickling down his side and the chair to the floor from where the key had been hidden.

The entire event she watched…from start to finish she couldn't believe that she watched it. She felt horribly sick to her stomach but at the same time a strange sense of peace overcame her - he was dead, he was finally dead and no longer hurting innocent people; her mother's killer had been brought to justice. But it still felt wrong, horribly wrong even though it brought her peace - here was a man that was murderer when he himself was doing the same thing to others. Sure, he had a chance to get out of his trap, to live, but…was this still murder? She was so confused now over the thoughts swirling through her mind and even more disturbed by the fact that she was still sitting here in this room. She watched a man die and didn't even flinch this time around. It was like John had her right where he wanted her, exactly how he wanted her. He used one man against her that he knew would be a serious emotional struggle - whether to forgive or to relish in his death. But was she entirely capable of forgiving that man, regardless of what happened here tonight? Was she able to say that she didn't wish something horrible against him, that she didn't wish death on him? She remained quiet and her senses were not numb as she expected them to be. She could feel John's hand gently moving up and down her back, she could feel her own pulse pounding in her head, and she could feel the blood flowing through her veins - it was an eerie sense of self and her surroundings that she had never experienced before.


	18. Death is a Surprise Party

_Pain so familiar and close to the heart, no more no less, I won't forget. Come back down, save yourself. I can't find my way to you. And I can't bare to face the truth. I wanted to forgive, I'm trying to forget. Don't leave me here again. I am with you, forever, the end. Sing something new, I have nothing left. I can't face the dark without you. There's nothing left to lose, the fighting never ends. I can't face the dark without you. Holding the hand that holds me down. I forgive you, forget you, the end._

The sound of dripping water caused her eyelids to twitch, flinch with the rhythm of the drops hitting the bottom of the metal sink - the faucet leaking as if to awaken her from her state of slumber. She could sleep through almost anything here now - the buzzing of the lights, the sounds of power tools, and even the screams of other people from time to time. Finally her eyes fluttered open and she slowly lifted her head off the cold metal table underneath of it. Hands slid across the table in a puddle of blood and she was still trying to wake up when she lifted her hand and brushed the tips of her fingers together to smear the crimson colored liquid around on pasty white skin. The ferocity in which she jumped up from the chair was much more violent then anticipated as she watched the puddle of blood trickle down the side of the table and drip onto the concrete floor beneath her feet. Panicked, she looked over at her left hand to see a hacksaw in it and quickly dropped it to the floor. "…holy shit…what…" she paused as she turned to look on the floor to see the body of a man laying there motionless, blood pooled around his lifeless body. She started to shake, her lips pursing together as she very slowly started to shuffle over to the body, very labored as she bent down to touch the body. She brought a hand up, running it through her hair as tears brimmed, pulling it away and completely oblivious to the fact that now she had blood smeared across the delicate and fearful features of her face and shining in midnight strands of hair that stuck together with the sticky substance. She placed her hand on the man's shoulder, shaking him a bit "Oh god please get up, please get up." He didn't respond and she kneeled in the puddle of blood, groaning as she pushed the heavy figure onto his back. She fell to a sit and screamed, placing her hand over her mouth as she frantically scooted across the floor away from the body of Detective Mark Hoffman, blood still trickling from the extensive laceration in his throat. She looked down at her clothes, soaked in blood, her breathing becoming erratic "Oh my god…what did I do?! Oh god no! NO!!"

She jolted from her slumber, screaming and sitting up abruptly and almost falling out of the chair she was in, her heart racing, her body covered in a cold sweat. She panted and looked around the room frantically for a few moments, the cloak that was draped over her falling to the floor. She quickly looked down at her hands to see they were not covered in blood, there was no hacksaw in her hand and she peered over the edge of the table to realize the only thing there was the concrete floor. "Shit." it was all she could think to utter as she ran her fingers through her hair before dropping her head and closing her eyes to catch her breath and collect herself. The only thing that was on the table in front of her were pieces of paper and a pen, scribbled all over them were her thoughts, fears, apprehensions, and ultimately her feelings which had been sheltered for so very long. There were also sketches sitting beside them of a trap she had no recollection of drawing, but apparently she got so caught up in herself that she started doing it before she fell asleep. Multiple sleepless nights after watching her mother's killer die forced exhaustion to take over. She shivered a bit and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them to create a bit of heat before grabbing the cloak off the floor and putting it on, holding it closed tight around herself. John must have draped it over her after he found her asleep at the desk - and also she noticed her trap drawings had scribblings all over them. She reached over, placing her hand on top of the drawings and pulling them closer before looking closely - well what do you know, John was critiquing her work. It wasn't like she wanted to be involved in what he was doing, but the feelings she encountered after seeing Dennis die must have invoked something unusual within her psyche.

**- - flashback - -**

She remembered that night clearly, after seeing him die, after watching him suffer she felt a strange sensation of satisfaction. The feeling bothered her so much that while she stood there in the shower with water beating down her head, she closed her eyes and ended up punching the wall, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. She hadn't felt anger and distress to this extent in a very long time. Shortly after that she started to seethe in spite of herself, with anger, with discontent that this man had the opportunity to hurt others after he hurt her mother, that the police did nothing to catch him and here was this cancer affected old man who managed to catch him and did it…did it for her. The revelation hurt more then she could even articulate to herself, so being angry would have to suffice to release all the pent up tension. She was so confused, overwhelmed, and angry that she ended up walking out of the lair, though not without being noticed.

When John walked out to find her, he realized she hadn't gone far even though she was gone for a good hour. She was sitting outside in the freezing cold as snow fell looking up at the sky, her legs swinging back and forth and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He saw she had been crying, been struggling alone all this time when she faced him, her cheeks red and she quickly turned away, tilting her head to the side and bringing her arm up to brush her sleeve across her eyes. "I've always liked the snow." the statement caused her to look over at him as he slowly labored his way over to her and sat down on the generator next to her, looking to the sky himself for a few moments. John didn't want to pry, he knew she was difficult and he didn't want her to shut him out all over again, so he figured perhaps making idle conversation would keep her open to his company. He wanted her to see him as a friend, not a threat - her friend. "Some murderers in this world never have the chance to see the error of their ways. They continue killing with no regard to the suffering they have caused those who know their victims more so then the victims themselves. The dead can no longer feel pain, but the living feel it every day of their lives over the loss of the dead." He looked over at the young woman staring at the ground, crossing her ankles and stopping the swinging of her legs as she listened to him, unwilling to talk at the moment. He looked the back out at the snow creating a blanket over the quiet street in front of the building.

"…you only suffer from the pain if you allow yourself to be engulfed by it. Some people don't know how to properly cope with tragedy, so it's easier to temporarily stop the suffering." John looked over at Michelle as she spoke softly and honestly, truer words couldn't have been spoken. John was watching the intellect he knew she had creeping out from underneath her façade so he figured he would offer to listen carefully to what she wanted to tell him. When she turned to look at him he could see the change in her eyes from what he used to see so frequently before. He smiled softly as if to encourage her to continue and she scoffed a bit, smiling half-heartedly as she looked at the ground again. "I spent my whole life wondering what I did wrong to lose everything, to lose the only people that ever loved me and ever will to such tragedy. My father's unexpected illness was tragic enough but my mother's murder destroyed me. And tonight…" He remained silent as she took a deep breath trying to find the courage to talk about how she felt, what she thought. "…tonight I felt nothing when I watched someone die because…because I felt like he got exactly what he deserved, he didn't deserve the chance to continue breathing."

"Everyone deserves a chance to value their lives and to live them, no matter what they've done in the past. Their behavior is due to the result of lacking a vital part of the human puzzle. You are the first test subject I've encountered that, in spite of having the survival instinct, you lack the ability to trust someone who cares…someone like me." She picked up her head and looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion at what he just said. She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath before releasing it shortly afterwards. "Before you say any more…you need to learn to cope with what's going on in here and let this up here guide you through the rest." His hand rested on her heart as he pointed to her head - she's heard that before; listen to your head and it will help you understand your heart. "I know that what you felt tonight was a mix of things you don't quite understand yet. Take time to reflect on these feelings you have, understand what they mean and what they are trying to tell you. There's no reason to be hasty." She reached up and took hold of his hand for a moment, pushing it away and nodding her head as she smiled ever so slightly.

John was taken aback as the young woman leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a brief moment he wasn't sure what to think of the unusual show of…well, he guessed it might have been a form of affection. At any rate he leaned his head against her own and placed his arm around her, the two of them sitting quietly there in the darkness watching the snow fall. Little did they know that someone who saw them would struggle with the revelation and respond in a way that could make any person's blood run cold.

**- - end flashback - -**


	19. I Wasn't Being Very Good to Myself

Leaning back in the chair, Michelle closed her eyes and ran her hand over her face once more before pushing the papers on the desk off to the side - she didn't want to look at these drawings anymore, it scared her to realize she had the capacity to think this way. Standing up from the chair, she slowly walked out of the room, wondering what time it was anyway considering everything was eerily quiet in the lair. She picked up the watch up off the table she had been wearing a couple days ago when she went out and saw that it was 3 a.m. Well no wonder it was quiet, more then likely everyone was asleep and here she was, awake thanks to a horrifying nightmare. Why did she dream of killing Mark Hoffman anyway? It was disturbing, I mean, he did a terrible thing to her but she wasn't capable of killing another person…was she? As she pushed past the plastic flaps, she stepped out into the main room, eyeing the various designs and concepts surrounding her. With the very minimal lighting everything in here looked much more demented and disturbing then it had previous times she had seen it. It sent a chill down her spine but she shook it off, stepping up to the doorway of John's room. Placing her hand on the wall she peeked around the corner just a bit to see John asleep. Glancing over at his desk she noted the extensive amount of doodles and notes disorganized in his work space. As she pushed off the wall, she turned around to see a dark figure standing in the middle of the room she was in. For a moment her heart skipped a beat and she felt the lump form in her throat, but as the dim lights from the street managed to creep through the cracks of the door, they illuminated the figure of Amanda. At first she thought it was Hoffman and she didn't know whether to scream or run - either way, someone was going to realize something was wrong. "Aman--" she never got to finish as Amanda quickly moved up to her and grabbed her by the throat, spinning her around before slamming her back into one of the tables with little concern if she woke someone - although more then likely she knew John well enough to figure he might sleep through this sort of ordeal.

Amanda grinned as she felt the pliable nature of the flesh under her hand and even more so was rather pleased with the sound of this bitch's back slamming into the hard table. She watched with sick satisfaction as Michelle rolled onto her side, eyes squinted shut and groaning as she moved her hand to hold onto her back. Twirling the ice pick around in her hand, Amanda took hold of her arm and forcefully shoved her down onto the table, now on her stomach and slammed the ice pick into the table just mere inches from her face. She closed her eyes for a minute and smirked at the squeak of surprise and fear that entered her ears and the feeling of her heart pounding through to the back of her current victim. She could feel Michelle's breathing pick up quickly in response to her actions and she leaned down, her hair falling in her face as she got her face inches from Michelle's, one of her legs between both of Michelle's to prevent her from trying to turn over and get away from her and her hand forcefully shoved into her back. She brushed the strands of hair out of her face and subsequently placed her elbow in the middle of the girl's back, leaning all her weight on it. Michelle gasped but Amanda quickly put a finger to her lips, grinning "Shh. We wouldn't want to wake John and upset him, now would we? Now…pay attention." She jammed her elbow harder into her back, involuntarily sighing a sigh of content as she watched the girl underneath of her cringe in pain. "I don't know who you think you are. I'm not even sure that you understood me the first time we talked, so let me make one thing very _very _clear to you. Listen carefully bitch…" She wrapped her hand up with a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, watching her grit her teeth, her lips just inches from her ear. "**I **am John's protégé. **I** will carry on his legacy. And if you _ever_ pull a stunt like you did last night again I will make you suffer. I am the **only** one worthy of John's time and attention and lately he's been paying way too much to you because you cry like a fucking pussy when you see someone die. Cut the act, I know your kind and don't even _think _about taking John away from me. Do we understand one another this time? If you touch him again…" Amanda wanted her point to be made perfectly clear to this worthless wretch that John seemed to have developed a bit of "affection" for so she tugged harder, smiling as she glanced at the exposed flesh of her neck. Oh it would be so easy to take a knife and slit her throat without her making a peep and in the morning…oops, she must of hated it here and wanted to end her own life due to all her suffering. The thought crossed her mind over and over again before she released her hair, watching her head fall to the table. She reached over to where the ice pick was embedded in the table beside her head and pulled it out of the table, starting at it briefly before stepping away from the girl. She eyed her up one more time before stepping past her and looking over her shoulder at her, smiling that devious, sadistic, and possessive smile of hers before leaving the room.

Michelle took a few deep breaths before placing her hands flat against the table and pushing herself off of it. She gasped and involuntarily yelped as she stumbled backwards a bit, placing her hand on her back where Amanda had jammed her elbow. "Crazy fucking bitch. Damn." slowly glancing down at the table where the ice pick was embedded she cringed, thinking about what would have happened if that were her head that went through - oh god. The thought sickened her and she slowly shuffled her way out of the room, feeling like she get man-handled by a 200 lb man - Amanda was strong and completely crazy in her mind. She pushed the flaps aside and stumbled over to the chair, plopping down in it and cringing again before sighing and leaning forward to lay her head down on the desk again in hopes that maybe she could fall back asleep without being awoken by horrific nightmares again - this time it was likely they would depict her own demise at the hands of Amanda Young.


	20. The Missing Piece of the Puzzle

"Amanda, what is it?" John looked up from his desk to acknowledge the young woman who had been standing in the doorway for a good 20 minutes already. He was curious as to why she didn't say anything, but regardless he was so focused that he only acknowledged her presence at first. She remained motionless in the doorway, twirling around a pair of scissors that he could clearly see she was digging into her thumb. Setting his pencil down he motioned for her to come into the room before raising a fist to his mouth and coughing harshly into it, his eyes closing for a moment. His fits were getting worse and he was concerned about his plans not being complete before he would need someone to care for him - his hopes being that Michelle would be ready to be there by his bedside; she was still being difficult with him and he had to start practicing more "tough love" with her. Oddly enough though, she had been acting strangely when Amanda would enter the room - in the past if they were talking she would normally keep talking to him, but lately she had been getting up, jerking her hands out of his if he had a hold of them, and ultimately putting as much distance between them as she could. Her odd pain was another thing John couldn't help but notice but it seemed to be fading as of lately which he was thankful for - the last thing he needed was to have to care for someone else while he was trying to finish up some very important details. "Amanda, come here." he stood up and extended his arms to get her to come to him and was surprised when she did with a rather abrupt hug. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back and guided her to the bed to sit down as he sat next to her. She was looking to the floor before John placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head, tilting his head slightly "What's gotten into you?"

"…do you love her?" the question slipped past her lips with ease and caught John off guard, his brows furrowing in confusion as well as a bit of discontent - he knew this was coming, he just knew it. Amanda placed her hands on her knees and looked at him before shifting to face him, taking his hands in her own "Please, I need to know. Why else is she here? What could she possibly mean to you? She's worthless, she doesn't appreciate anything you've done for her. She's not like me, like us…she'll never understand." Amanda didn't like how silent John was while she spoke and when he withdrew his hands from her own it increased her insecurities to a level she was entirely uncomfortable with.

John sighed and thought for a brief moment before speaking; he had to be delicate with Amanda because she was so volatile at times. "Amanda, just like all our test subjects in the past and those in the future, just like you and Mark, she has a purpose. She's important to you more then you realize and she's not worthless. She passed her test just as you did and she's learning even though the process is slow." He could see the expression on her face turning to anger and at this point John more then likely was losing complete control of her. He just waited for the fire to start and once again, like many times before, he would have to put it out.

"She's not important to me! How could you say that?! I don't give a damn who she is, she's nothing!! You do love her, don't you?! You won't deny it, why won't you deny it?! Why is she so important to you!?" She was uncontrollably angry and she felt her fingernails digging into her knees before she finally balled her hands up into fists. If she could she would have spit fire at this moment if she could. She watched John run a hand over his face before his features contorted into frustration. "She's just some stupid bitch who popped pills to kill herself and here you are taking pity on her like she's your fucking child. She won't change and she hasn't! The minute you turn your back she'll disappoint you again. She's nothing like me!!! I appreciate what you did for me, what you've done!" She was shaking now she was so upset and she stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth anxiously. It was rare occasions that Amanda got so upset she yelled at John - John, her savior, her father figure, the man that meant more then he would ever know to her.

"Amanda!" his voice was stern as he stood up, a bit infuriated with how she was acting, how close-minded she seemed to be. He taught her better then that, she knew her place in his world - sometimes he blamed himself for her overly possessive behavior. "She's important to both of us but until I can ensure that my plans work out the way I anticipate, I cannot provide you anymore information. Do you trust me? It appears you do not at this rate." He approached the pacing girl and grabbed her by the arms, holding her still as he looked her in the eyes. Realization struck and he finally understood why Michelle's behavior had become so erratic with him lately - Amanda was interfering with what he was trying to do and he was sorely disappointed in her, but he loved this girl and he would forgive her. "Do not interfere with what I'm trying to do here, do you understand me? Leave Michelle alone and learn to appreciate what she's doing for me…what she's doing for you." He let go of the wide-eyed woman in front of him and turned to look over at his desk before slowly walking over to it and sitting down in the chair, picking up his pen once more. "I hope you will learn to trust me as I have taught you. Now I need to finish this, our conversation is done."

Amanda stood there in his room, her mouth opening to say something but when John dismissed her, she almost felt her heart break in two. How the hell could that girl be important to her? What made her so damn important anyway? She was furious and confused and even more frustrated then when she came in here. She almost felt as though she were the scolded child, being told to leave dad's office and come back when she could act as a proper adult. Biting her bottom lip, she dug the scissors aggressively into the palm of her hand and shuddered at the sensation - she needed to bleed out the sadness she felt at the moment. With the scissors still digging into her palm she walked up to John, placing her hand on his shoulder before exiting the room quietly, John only affording her a temporary glance before turning back to his work. Amanda slowly wandered over to her bed, reaching underneath of it to pull out the heavy knife hidden from John's view. Sitting down on the bed, she turned the blade around in her hands momentarily before sliding her jeans down and pressing it against the soft flesh on the inside of her thigh. These were marks John couldn't see, otherwise he would be horribly disappointed in the way she treated herself, treated her body - sadly John would never see even though she wished for something much more.


	21. My Work Will Continue

The week had passed by slowly and one could argue in the same fashion as her recovery. But what might have been seen as recovery to the man who insisted on her time and attention, could easily have been seen as mounting insanity by people on the outside of the lair. She felt like she was losing control of herself, of her thoughts, her beliefs…just everything. The week was littered was a great deal of changes she hadn't anticipated and her focus had been indirectly driven to helping John, Amanda, and Hoffman as they prepared for the biggest game she was about to become witness to. For some reason, no matter how much it bothered her, she couldn't pull herself away from watching the carnage of people dying since Dennis' run-in with John's "method" of justice. John had been working on numerous trap designs as of lately, consistently drawing and at the same time trying to combat the outbreaks that were getting progressively worse. In the process of working on traps and designs and trying to "teach" her, John also spent a great deal of time trying to enforce some kind of bond between them. Michelle was faltering on her resolve and the more time she spent with John, the more she became undeniably attached to this cancer ridden old man.

Currently she was sitting on the floor in a quiet room with Amanda and John working on part of a rather intricate trap behind her. John was talking only loud enough so Amanda could hear him, pointing out what she needed to make sure happened with the part of the trap she was working on. Michelle reached off to the side to grab a screw driver and sat up, leaning forward to get to what she needed to tighten. She had to be careful with what she was working on because the blades within the confines of the small space she was tinkering in were sharp enough to cut rather deep, even with a superficial brush. Now the reason she and Amanda were working on this intricate trap designed for 6 people was because of John's health as of lately - she had resisted and resisted time and time again but one night she was sitting there listening to him and he started having a fit convinced her to help; the sight of him coughing up blood was enough to invoke concern and compassion in her that she was unaware still existed. The door creaked open just inches from where she was working and she paused momentarily to hear the voice of Hoffman as he entered the room. She felt a chill creep through her body, but closed her eyes to focus her attention on her task and continue on.

As Hoffman entered the room he peered off to the side to see the young girl who had now been here three months messing with the configuration of a trap "Hmm, new labor assistance John?" He looked over to John sitting in a chair beside where Amanda was working and couldn't help but notice the pause in Amanda before the frustrated sigh as she continued on. Hoffman waited till John turned his attention to Amanda again and turned slightly on his heel, kneeling down where Michelle was working, folding his hands and leaning in to speak soft enough so only she could hear him "…don't think you're safe just yet cause the minute you're out of John's ever watchful eye I'm going to fuck you up to the point you'll beg to die." He noticed she stopped moving as he spoke and looked over at John again briefly, noting he was still busy informing Amanda about her next steps before he stood up, in the process stepping on the hand that was balancing her weight while she worked.

As Hoffman finished informing John he got the information on the test subjects he needed and subsequently left the room, the tromping on her hand caused her to flinch and jerk involuntarily. She bit her bottom lip hard feeling a saw blade cut into her finger and jerked her head out of where she was working, falling back onto her butt. She dropped the screw driver on the floor rather abruptly and stuck her finger in her mouth to try and stop the bleeding. Although the cut was small, it was created by a perfectly sharpened blade that cut deeply. As she removed her finger from her mouth, she watched the droplet of blood form quickly on the surface before trickling down her hand and hitting the floor in front of her. She pushed herself up with her other hand and turned around to come face-to-face with John.

"Did you finish what you were doing?" he watched her stick her finger in her mouth and nod her head and even though he wished to offer some kind of assistance, he needed to watch their interactions around Amanda to prevent anymore unnecessary aggression that had already occurred. "Go take care of that and then meet me at my desk, I have something important to give to you" John watched her leave the room before turning to look at Amanda who was intently listening to his conversation with her before she exited the room. He smiled at her and waited for her to return to finishing up the little tweaks he told her to do before turning his attention to what Michelle was working on. Bending down, he picked up the screw driver and inspected what she had done - impressive…and all by her own design; there was something to this girl he couldn't quite put his finger on but she was more then ready for what he had in store for her.

When she got upstairs she wandered into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, applying pressure to her finger and stepped out of the bathroom and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. She couldn't understand what was happening to her - she was completely "attached" to a man who, at one point, tortured her and started to think in rather sick and twisted ways. Dennis' trap had to have done something to her psyche but at the moment she wasn't sure what exactly it did. As the weeks progressed she was feeling more and more comfortable here and it puzzled and bothered her at the same time. Opening her eyes, she slowly made her way to John's desk, pushing the flaps aside and stepping off to the side to look around the room. The sheets on the bed were tussled and disorganized and there were pill bottles lining the top of his desk - she spent a great deal of nights lately checking on him when he'd have his coughing bouts and even spent one night caring for him when he coughed up blood. John entered the room as she was caught up in thought and she turned around to face him, raising a brow at him as he walked past her rather coldly. It wasn't a huge surprise since he seemed to do it when he intended to be serious and considering her temper at times, he had to use force from time to time.

"Michelle, come sit by me. We need to talk." he sat down on the bed and patted it, waiting for her to sit down beside him. Once she was there, John extended a finger simply to tell her to stay put and got up, walking over to his desk and grabbing an envelope from under his pile of drawings. He sat back down on the bed and placed the envelope in her lap and when he hands moved to it, he placed his hands on top of her own to stop her from opening it just yet. "Wait, this is something I want you to look over very carefully, pay attention to the little details you'll find inside of this and follow the directions exactly as they are given to you. I'm entrusting you to this and believe you are more then ready to handle this task." The look of confusion on her face made John smirk in spite of himself before continuing on "I believe it's your right to handle this. I will be here for guidance, but I want you to make this your own. You've shown an impressive capacity for understanding and developing based on my theories. Initially I believe you will refuse and become stubborn and closed off to the idea but I want you to think over this for a few days. You have 3 days to think about it while we get the test subjects for the next game." Reaching over, John placed a finger under the chin of the clearly confused girl and spoke very seriously "…do not disappoint me." With that he stood from the bed and motioned for her to leave the room. It wasn't that John didn't want her company, but he truly wanted her to take some time to reflect on the large task ahead of her - to think about it and come back with the answer he wanted…that was the **only** acceptable one.


	22. Forgive Her

_Silent I go under, I am not afraid. I can see the daylight shine and slowly drift away. Safe to say it's over, sink into the grave. There's nothing left inside but I am wide awake. I believe the dead will call my name. I'm falling down, I can't wake up. I cannot hold, I will not let go. It's over now, there's no way out. I cannot hold on, I will not let go._

Sitting down at a table in the midst of a great number of traps and ideas surrounding her, Michelle gingerly opened the envelope that she had clutched in her hands. Amanda entered the room briefly to simply walk past her and head towards John's room. She paid little attention to her as she took off her boots and placed her feet up on the table, making herself comfortable - probably not the way she would remain after reading what was in store for her. Her expression was stoic, collected, calm; but as time went on and she read the information before her, looked over the intricate details in the envelope, her expression changed to one of discomfort. She fidgeted in her chair and dropped her feet down, leaning forward with lips pursed into a tight line. As she stuffed everything back into the envelope, she looked up to see Hoffman step through the door, the envelope clutched tightly in her hands. She couldn't help but to follow him with her eyes as he walked through the room, the two of them locking gazes that spoke volumes of their feelings towards one another before he disappeared into John's room. She stared at the flaps for a very long time before standing up from the chair, clutching the envelope to her chest and walking out into the quiet, desolate hallways of the factory to collect her thoughts and make sense of what was surrounding her entire existence now-a-days.

At least three hours had passed by, three hours she was completely unaware of as she sat in silence in the room Dennis died - staring at the lifeless body in the middle of the room that was decomposing. The smell was awful, but for some reason she was so caught up in her own personal thoughts that she didn't even pay any attention to it. It took John a good 20 minutes to find her, looking in every spot he figured she might be - the last place he expected to find her was in a room stained by blood and death, but all the same it didn't bother him. He was careful not to startle her as he stepped into the room; she was just sitting there on the floor indian style, still clutching the envelope. John placed a very gentle hand on her shoulder and in turn he watched as her head turned to look up and over her shoulder, green eyes peering into his own. Her eyes held a hint of something unusual that John had never seen before and he couldn't quite put his finger on, but all the same he offered her his hand and when she took it, he gently pulled to encourage her to get up. Once she was up he led her out of the room and back through the hallways, the entire time she refused to let go of his hand and one point lacing her fingers through his own - it was an even stronger sign of her bond with him and John wasn't about to break it so in turn he held tighter; he wasn't letting her get away now that he had her. When they got past the flaps and into his room she released his hand and voluntarily sat down on the bed, finally setting the envelope off to the side. John sat down beside her, waiting patiently to hear what she had to say - his guess was she had a lot to say considering the look in her eyes.

After a few minutes she finally found the words that were trapped in the back of her mind and refused to escape past her lips "Why did you give this to me? You really believe I'm capable of this?"

He smiled and nodded slightly, watching her carefully for her reaction to the things he would say and the things he entrusted her with now. "Of course. I have every faith in you now. You've made a remarkable recovery. You are more alive then you have been in years, don't you agree?"

"Yes…but…what does that have to do with this? This is bigger then me, this is…this is…I can't even begin to describe how much I _can't_ do this. I would be deciding whether someone should live or die and I'm not capable of that. You've picked the wrong person, I don't care what this guy had done, I'm not like that." She looked him in the eyes, her expression very serious, very concentrated. She watched his expression change to one of frustration and a slight tinge of anger as he shook his head.

"_You_ wouldn't be deciding anything, he would make the decision himself. Remember, I create opportunities for people to value life and make their own choices…you'd be doing the exact same thing. What makes you think you're not capable of this? If anyone should be responsible for this man's lesson it should be you. I believe in you, why do you still refuse to believe in yourself?" He watched her slowly start to tense - she was getting frustrated with him and this could go one of two ways; hopefully not the way most of their heated conversations went.

She chuckled and shook her head, turning away from him for a brief moment before turning her attention back to him once more. "Listen to me John Kramer - I am not you, I am not Amanda, and I am most certainly not like this man. I know who I am, I know what I am, and I know what I'm capable of; there is no one in this world that will convince me otherwise."

"Then who are you?" his question was simple to ask but very hard to answer. She stared at him silently when he asked, her mouth opening to speak before she closed it again and looked down at the envelope sitting next to her. Wow…who was she? She had never been asked and as of lately she was completely unsure of who she truly was. John was quick to turn her attention back to him by turning towards her and taking her hands in his own, pulling her closer to him. "I know who you are Michelle, I've known since the moment I met you. You are capable of so much more then you give yourself credit for. You're stronger then you want to believe you are. If I believe in you, then so should you. You told me once that only two people in the world ever loved you, but you're wrong." He paused and looked her dead in the eyes, watching the confusion creep in and he didn't want to break this moment - now or never before you lose her all over again. "**I **love you, without reservation I can say you are like a daughter to me. I want you to be part of my world, part of _my_ life."

Her eyes widened and she stared aimlessly at him, unable to formulate a sentence, unable to even think. Her heart raced and subsequently started to ache - having anyone tell her they cared about her hurt to the point she wanted to close her eyes and wish it away. She slowly pulled her hands from John's and then looked away for a good 5 minutes.

John sighed, feeling as though he had just completely lost her all over again, frustrated over the fact that she still couldn't accept affection and compassion from another human being - especially one that was being serious. As he went to get up he was caught off guard by the girl who turned towards him and sort of collapsed into his chest, arms wrapping around him and her head pressed against his chest listening to the thump of his heart. Inwardly he smiled, inwardly he felt a great deal of satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight - he could feel her own heart beat for the time being and finally spoke "…will you do it?"

"…yes. I will set up the test for Hoffman." that was all he wanted to hear and he smirked, nodding his head in satisfaction.


	23. I Will Continue John's Work

She started living in her personal world all over again, something she had hoped she was over with at this juncture with everything she had been through, but the task John left for her was something not to be toyed with and taken lightly. Throughout her trials of working on the trap John designed she found how incredibly complicated these things could be and how incredibly focused he had to be to accomplish even a fraction of what she'd seen. It was horribly frustrating working on the design at times and she found herself having short fits over her inability to get things right the first time - take it easy, things will work themselves out. John had offered his assistance if she needed it, but what John began to discover was how horribly determined she was to do it on her own and do it right. The only reason he didn't give her the task of designing it herself was because John knew Hoffman well and knew that if even the smallest detail was out of line, Hoffman would find the fault and learn absolutely nothing - it wasn't John's way to make things easy on those who did terrible things to innocent lives. Because she seemed to concentrate much better with music around her, she spent an entire day messing with her iPod until she finally got it to function enough to play music - it was a welcome relief because she also blocked out the horrifying sound of screams from the current game that was unfortunately just down the hallway from her; it made her sick when she heard people suffering.

She was once again sitting cross-legged on the floor messing with a small set of gears that were giving her a terrible fit when she was trying to work on them in relation to the larger aspect of the game - she figured removing them and working on them this way would make her life easier, besides she was tired of pricking her fingers and they were killing her at the moment.

_Send away for a priceless gift, one not subtle, one not on the list. Send away for a perfect world, one not simply so absurd. In these times of doing what you're told, keep these feelings no one knows. Whatever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart. And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45. Swimming through the ashes of another life. No real reason to accept the way things have changed, staring down the barrel of a 45._

The lyrics currently drifting through her headphones into her ears caused her to pause briefly before she sighed and reached down to her side, changing the song on the list without diverting her attention away from what she was doing. There really wasn't a reason to accept her life now, to accept what she had become…to accept any of this but she couldn't stop herself from being drawn into this world and she accepted that, so it seemed. She just tried to think about why she was doing this, what that horrible man did to her; the very thought sent chills down her spine and made her feeling of nausea return without warning.

_Why are you trying to make fun of me? You think its funny? What the fuck you think you're doing to me? You take your turn lashing out at me, I want you crying with your dirty ass in front of me. All of my hate cannot be found, I will not be drowned by your thoughtless scheming. So, you can try to tear me down, beat me to the ground, I will see you screaming…_

The music and her thoughts about what this trap was capable of were drowning out everything happening around her, so much so that she completely missed the entire 5 minutes John was standing in the doorway watching her, ever so much a smile playing on his lips at the realization that she was taking this task seriously. She had almost the entire thing done, but after spending a week with John on it and then this week by herself piecing things together it wasn't too surprising to him - all the same, he was impressed. She tilted her head to the side trying to figure out what she was doing wrong and after about 3 minutes she got it and quickly placed the gears in the correct configuration, then placed them properly into the larger configuration of the trap. She was tired and losing energy so she finally pulled herself away, getting up off the floor and turning off her iPod. She set all the tools aside and walked to the door, stopping briefly to look back at the trap coming to "life" there in the room before exiting and shutting the door behind her.

Running a hand through her hair, she walked down the hallway slowly having become completely numb to this environment now even though it was still horrifying in its own right. Her whole world was turning in on itself and enveloping her within it and she…well, she just didn't care anymore. She finally could feel again which was a welcome relief, she even developed a bond with someone no matter how unlikely and unusual they were - she was turning into a very different individual. Amanda's feelings had yet to change towards her, in fact she outright hated her more then she had before thanks to her newfound relationship with John - it infuriated Amanda. Stepping through the doorway, she almost stepped right into Mark Hoffman standing there by the door and froze involuntarily.

Hoffman quickly turned with his gun drawn; a habit of his; staring into the very familiar face of the girl he hadn't really seen much of. His gun remained drawn as a rather devious smile played across his lips and he looked around the room over his shoulder. She started to step back away from him but his right hand shot out, grabbing her forcefully by the forearm and yanking her the rest of the way through the door, putting the gun away and reaching behind her to shut the door in the process. He had enough of her and after she blabbed to John - well, he had business to attend to, after all he did promise her she was going to be dead. He slung her around and pushed her into metal sink to the left of him, watching her wince before she surprisingly started to fight back, digging her nails painfully into his arm and dragging them down his skin, causing small cuts to appear. He shoved her back harder into it, sort of bending her back a bit and she turned her head as he face got close to her own, seeing the assortment of bloodied knives and various other tools lying in the bottom of the sink. He reached with his right hand and grabbed her hair, spinning her around before pinning her against the sink, slightly bending over it "I made you a promise…" With that he reached into the sink, grabbing one of the knives out of it and quickly brought it up to her cheek, running it down it slowly to her neck. He felt her tense but wasn't prepared for her to slam her heel into the toe of his shoe and dig it in as hard as she could before sending her elbow into his gut. Furious, he let go and grunted, grabbing his stomach but not before reaching out again and grabbing her arm, slinging her across the room.

Losing her footing she stumbled to the floor, pushing herself up to see Hoffman coming at her aggressively. Her eyes widened and she raised her hands up towards her face to defend herself if need be, Hoffman grabbing her wrist. Strangely enough it was as if someone was watching over her because as Hoffman grabbed her wrist and started hauling her up off the floor, John and Amanda entered the room. Hoffman froze momentarily and quickly shoved the knife into his pants behind his back so John wouldn't see it before pulling her to her feet. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and brushed her shirt off before shoving aggressively past him and disappearing behind plastic flaps that shuddered with her violent exit from the room.

John peered at Hoffman expressionless, not saying a single word, and watched very carefully as he squirmed a bit before smiling sheepishly and offering the explanation that he was helping her cause she tripped. John only nodded in response and looked to Amanda, placing a hand in the middle of her back before she quietly acknowledged his request and left the room. John stood quietly for a moment before walking past Hoffman and over to the sink, noting that one of the knives was missing (it was like John to keep such detailed tabs in his mind, regardless of the need) and placed his hand on the side, still not looking at the detective "She's not the same young woman you remember coming here when I tested her. It would be wise to be mindful of her space and not cause unnecessary confrontation." Moving closer to the detective he placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed just a bit "…she's still a mystery to me detective if that says anything." With those final words John left Hoffman's presence and made his way through the lair in the direction his "little pet" disappeared in. John knew what was in store for Hoffman - he designed the trap, he laid out the details and he knew damn well that she was more then able to bring his vision into reality and use it to it's full potential; she deserved the chance more then anyone else he knew.


	24. You Think You Will Go Untested

The trap had been completed for 5 days now, just waiting for its chance to breathe the potential of life or death into its victim. John made certain to go over all the little details and check the design over and he was rather astounded at how she grasped the concept so well that it turned out exactly how he had imagined it could. Sure, he drew up plans and laid out instructions, but she seemed to take them very well and execute them even better then previous endeavors of his - what a shame. John was still trying to find an opportune moment to get Hoffman off his guard and into the trap, but Hoffman was so in sync with everything that happened in John's day-to-day life that he couldn't easily catch him off guard. Even the "traditional" method of capturing Hoffman wouldn't work very well since he was always armed and had the reflexes of a cat. During the time John tried to think of ways to get Hoffman in his grasp he started showing Michelle a bit of the more intricate details of testing a subject - more specifically the use of the sedative. She knew the affects of it well, after all she sold it to him on more then one occasion, but all the same she was surprised by the ferocity in which John used it to ensure his victims did not wake up before their due time.

Currently she was asleep, it was 3 am and she was so exhausted that while John was working on his plans, she kind of fell asleep leaning against the wall in the room in a chair. John had realized she was asleep when he kept repeating her name and she wouldn't answer so in spite of how weak he was feeling due to the encroaching effects of his cancer, he still managed to pick her up out of the chair and lay her down in his bed, pulling the sheet over her and spending about 5 minutes just watching her before he left the room to go work with Amanda on one of her designs. She was alone in the room, sleeping soundly - or was she?

Hoffman had been waiting for John to leave the room and waited a good hour to make sure he would be busy and distracted before slowly stepping up to the flaps and peering through them into the room. It was dark and he figured it was highly unlikely that John would be back any time soon so he slowly stepped through them, unaware of the young girl sleeping in John's bed. In fact, Hoffman hadn't come in here for her, he came in here to snoop through John's work and find out what was going on with him and Michelle spending so much time together - it was suspicious even for a man just looking for some kind of companionship. As Hoffman leafed through the papers on John's desk, he realized the need for a little more light then that peering through the slits of the flaps, so he turned on the reading light above the desk. It was then he heard the sound of someone shifting around under sheets and quickly turned to see Michelle asleep in John's bed. He froze for a minute figuring she had seen him but when he realized she was out cold, he simply smiled and walked over to the edge of the bed. Standing there at the side, he reached over and very gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face - it wasn't a sign of affection at all, it was like a lion analyzing and stalking its prey. Hoffman looked over at the flaps, leaning back slightly to listen and make sure no one was coming before he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her back over onto her back after a bit of resistance. He slowly pulled the sheet back to find her sleeping in a white tank top and a pair of shorts, finding his ability to curve his animalistic behavior suddenly much harder. If she didn't wake up at all it would be ideal but undoubtedly she would have to wake up once he "started" what he was thinking about doing - screw it. Reaching down he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before slowly climbing onto the bed and straddling the girl. Once he was in the position he wanted to be in, he lowered himself down, sitting on top of her. She immediately startled to a waking state and he slapped a hand over her mouth to silence her.

Her eyes widened and she started to struggle, but Hoffman's weight was too much for her to overcome. She growled inadvertently and flailed around as Hoffman pressed his hand into her mouth even harder - bingo. She bit down as hard she could, quickly tasting the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth, Hoffman biting his bottom lip to try and stop himself from screaming and for the first time he let his anger take over and quickly removed his hand, backhanding her forcefully with it. Her hand snapped to the side and she winced as the feeling of hand coming across her cheek caused it to sting, bringing her right arm up now that she had the freedom to do so. Before Hoffman could react a needle sunk deep into the soft flesh of his neck, his eyes going wide as he grabbed her wrist, but she had already started depressing the plunger so he was as good as hopeless at this point. He looked down at the expression on her face - it was clearly a "fuck you" expression she held before he drifted off to the side, falling off of her and onto the floor. The needle pulled out of his neck as he did so and she sat up a bit on her left elbow, leaning over the side of the bed to look at Hoffman before peering around the corner at John coming through the flaps.

John looked at Hoffman lying motionless on the floor before looking over at Michelle who clearly had a rather painful looking bruise forming on her cheek. He shook his head and gritted his teeth briefly - no need to get angry John, you got what you wanted and she did suggest this, clearly she knew what she was talking about. She sat up on the bed just as John came over and Amanda walked through the doorway, staring at Hoffman quietly. "Amanda, help Michelle." it was a request Amanda didn't like, but all the same as Michelle slid off the bed and hooked her arms underneath of Hoffman's and around his torso, Amanda grabbed his legs, the two girls walking Hoffman out of the room and down the hallway with John walking closely behind them.

Once Hoffman was properly situated in the trap and everything was set as needed, John turned to Michelle "This is your game, your chance to see my method work that your hands created. I want you to stay within the safety of the room with the monitors and DO NOT come down here at any time, even if he survives. He will kill you if he gets a hold of you and I'm not here. Watch your own creation work. I'm very proud of you." He reached up and gently touched the bruise forming on her cheek, watching her cringe a bit in response before he looked over at Amanda to the left of him "Come Amanda, we need to get the next 4 test subjects ourselves. We will be back shortly, okay?" He looked over at Michelle one last time before placing a hand on her shoulder and then exited the room with Amanda.

Michelle took one last moment to peer over at Hoffman in the trap, took one last minutes to think about what she was doing - everything in her mind screamed no, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. This was it, this was the defining moment - would she handle Hoffman's demise or would she lose her mind and go off the deep end? Only one person knew the answer to that…and that was her.


	25. Blood is The Price of Freedom

It would be a couple hours before Hoffman awoke to find himself stuck in a situation he probably never wanted to be in again, so for the time being she settled down with the idea of tying her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and grabbing herself a cup of hot tea. For the time she had she simply sat back in a chair in front of the monitor showing Hoffman passed out in his trap and put her headphones in and sipping her tea. What the hell had she become? She sat here like nothing was wrong, like what she was about to see was nothing, and like the aggressive behavior she started to display was natural. She used the needle on Hoffman and faked her own sleep like it was common place for her to do - something had to give; either she would cope with her existence or continue to question it with John. Two hours passed faster then she imagined they would as she reached over to the iPod laying on the table and unplugged the headphones. It wasn't overly loud but then again no one else was here, so she pressed play and let the music drift out of the small speaker on it as she watched Hoffman stir from his world of darkness into a state of delirium. She leaned forward in her chair, sort of sitting on the edge as she tilted her head and watched intently.

Hoffman's eyes slowly fluttered open, his head lolling from side to side as he tried to regain consciousness. What the fuck happened and how in the world did she dupe him like that? He couldn't understand what was happening until he heard the buzzing of dim lights coming on in the room above his head. Looking up at the lights, he squinted to allow his eyesight to adjust and started to pull, only to find that his arms and legs were restrained. Just like every other victim to Jigsaw's form of "redemption", Hoffman startled and pulled hard, frantically looking at his appendages attached to some rather large gears controlled by what looked like much smaller gears. On top of that he noticed a couple of sharp pieces of metal that looked like they were attached to a spring system with a timer, lined up from his chest all the way down to his ankles. He was in a standing position, strapped down with tight leather straps - oh shit, it was coming back to bite him. As he tried to immediately start to think of ways to get out of this trap, he realized there was absolutely nothing here to provide him instructions on how to escape - John seemed to have a lot of faith in Hoffman's ability to understand his designs well enough to escape them without direction. "FUCK!! YOU LITTLE BITCH I KNOW THIS IS ALL YOU!!!" he was furious, shouting at the top of his lungs at the young woman he knew damn well was more then likely watching him along with John himself - why on earth did John do this and take that little cunt's side? Hoffman had just enough time to note the spikes digging into his wrists, hands, feet, and ankles that attached them to the wheel and how incredibly deep they were; not to mention their close proximity to vital blood flow in his body - they seemed to be so purposefully and intricately placed. Just as he realize his only way out way to slowly pull his hands away and try not to bleed to death and in the process grab the key to the lock on the leather strap that was placed on one of the blades, he heard the click and then grinding of gears starting to turn. He frantically looked to the wheels his wrists and ankles were strapped to and noted they weren't the ones turning - shit, those sharp blades timers were going off. Hoffman was a man who could undergo pain and handle it well enough to triumph no matter how agonizing it was so he started the painful process of getting his right arm loose. Apparently the timers on the blades were short as one of them shot forward, nailing him directly in the shoulder. It cut so deep and hit with such a force that Hoffman grunted before screaming in pain, shuddering as blood started to pool at the cut and stain his white shirt red. The next set of blades clicked and the timer started to count down, Hoffman forcefully ripping his right arm off the spikes with abandon - bad move on his part. He screamed in pain as blood started to pour from the wounds the spikes caused, but continued to wiggle his arm until it slid from the leather strap on the wheel. The next blade on the adjacent side snapped into play, digging into his left shoulder now, cutting deep enough to take out muscle function that Hoffman would have to fight through, blood staining that side of his shirt now. By this juncture Hoffman was foaming at the mouth so-to-speak, panting due to the intensity of the pain. Before he could pull his left art free the gears on the wheel started to turn, twisting Hoffman's limbs painfully. He screamed and struggled to pull his wrist and hand free from the spikes but to his disgust he heard the snap of bones and felt the sharp pain shoot through his arm as it was twisted and broken. "FUUUUUCK!!!" his scream could be heard echoing through the hallways of the building, but no one would come to his aide - this was all his game, he knew the rules, and he disobeyed them the first time around which was one of the most vile of sins to John.

She sat there with her cup of tea in her hands and as she watched Hoffman get mutilated and suffer, her hands started to tremble uncontrollably. She wasn't aware of what they were doing, only the sound of her heart thumping in her head - so loud, so deafening that she could drown out the world like this; and that was what was happening. That trembling of her hands suddenly extended to her body and the cup of hot tea fell from between her fingers onto the concrete floor beneath her, shattering into a million pieces. Oh god, what was she doing?! She was watching a man die and she didn't care…she was…getting some weird sense of satisfaction from this, it was appalling! Sure, she had watched other people suffer and die but she built this, she did what John wanted and she built this horrible device - slaved for weeks over it trying to perfect it, to make it to John's specifications and she actually found it to be a masterpiece. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?!" she was speaking to no one particular before she buried her head in her hands, forcefully grabbing handfuls of her own hair and screaming into her hands. Her head shot up in just enough time to distinguish the visual of blood splattering onto the floor beneath Hoffman as he struggled to free himself before the blades sunk into his stomach, before he bled out onto the floor. What the hell had she become? She frantically, panicked looked around the room before standing from her chair, her hand plastered to the table, sliding across it and knocking her iPod into the puddle of tea on the floor. She stumbled, now falling into a fast delusion, quickly becoming delirious and disoriented. Her mind had finally shut down, spinning in circles, her mental stability crumbling into a pile of disarray on the floor beneath her feet. She stumbled down the stairs, the sounds of Hoffman's screams echoing through her ears. She was sobbing uncontrollably and trembling as she stumbled towards the door only to fall into a table. She tried to stop herself but her legs gave way and she began to collapse to the floor, grabbing frantically to try and stop her quick descent. Fingers flailed around as she started to sink to the floor, quickly running over a sharp blade and grabbing it forcefully. She fell to a sit on the floor, sobbing, having trouble breathing, and shaking, her hand falling into her lap with a sharp blade grasped tightly in it. It was digging into her hand but she could hardly feel anything at the moment, unclasping her fingers from around it to watch the blood trickle from the cut in her palm. She held the knife up before herself, twirling it in the light before dropping her head and sobbing into her bloody hand that she brought up to silence herself. Gasping for some sort of precious air since she was crying so hard, she moved her hand away, staring blankly at the floor before looking to the door and back to the knife. She sat up on her knees, tears still running down her cheeks, staining them red and grasped the handle of the knife in both hands. She looked down at the knife, slowly tilting it towards her stomach before dropping her head, her chest erratically rising and falling with her hysterics "…forgive me." With those words to no one present she thrusted the blade towards her stomach, the sharp knife piercing her skin and sinking in deep. The first one caused her to gasp due to the pain, but soon it began to go numb and she felt nothing, hands getting covered in blood as she thrusted it not once more, but three more times into her abdomen. She pulled her left hand away from the handle of the knife and pressed it against her stomach, pulling it away to see it coated in the crimson red that seeped aggressively from the open wounds. Her hands were shaking and she dropped the knife to the floor, falling forward and stopping herself from crashing into the concrete for the time being before her arms buckled and she fell to the floor. Darkness crept into her consciousness and she couldn't help but to feel a sense of release, a brutal scream coming from down the hallway as her eyes fluttered shut…it would only be a few hours before she would bleed to death and never suffer the emotional turmoil of life with Jigsaw ever again.

A few minutes later the front door opened before the sound of footsteps pounded through the lair at a frantic pace and only one word was uttered "**NO**!"…


	26. Did You Really Want to Die?

The heavy metal door to the lair creaked open as Amanda unlocked it, making sure to hold it for John since he seemed to be having a hard time tonight - it was all she could do to do anything to help the man she so adored. She just managed to shut the door when she heard the scream of John and turned around to see what she could even deem a horrifying sight herself. A hand was clasped tightly over her mouth as she looked down the stairs John had quickly rushed down to see that dark haired vixen (in her mind at least) lying in a puddle of her own blood that seemed to know no end. The crimson red liquid oozed out from underneath a motionless body, staining the floor and the young woman's white t-shirt and shorts. Her eyes were closed, her hair soaked to blend in with the color extending from her belly-down position in front of one of the tables. Amanda felt a strange sensation of being nauseated cross over her, but she was quickly jostled out of her stupor and surprise by a very demanding and very concerned John.

"Amanda, get me a towel. NOW Amanda." he could feel the slight breeze of his apprentice rush past him towards the bathroom and could hear the slap of the plastic flaps, but John was completely focused on the motionless body before him. He had kneeled down and placed his hands on her back, slowly nudging her in an attempt to illicit some kind of response, but she didn't even groan. He couldn't see her back rise and fall and he immediately feared the worse - she was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that. His thoughts immediately went to Hoffman and as Amanda returned with the towel in hand, he motioned for her to kneel down - if he moved her, he could easily cause her to die if she even were alive, but John figured she was more then likely dead at this point; there was an extensive loss of blood and there was no telling how much was on the floor. Amanda helped him flip her over onto her back exposing the knife that lay underneath of her, John ignoring it for the time being as he reached over with two fingers and pressed them to her neck where he could find the strongest pulse if it existed - there it was, shallow, barely there, but her heart was still beating, surprisingly so. With his hands covered in blood now, John grabbed the towel and quickly searched around for the source of the inflicted wound; time was not on his side it seemed. She was soaked in blood so finding the source was going to be difficult without removing clothing to figure it out so John took to immediately removing her shirt with the knife sitting on the ground - bingo…holy shit. She had not one, not two, but four stab wounds to her stomach but there would be time to examine that later, right now John had to try to stop the bleeding as much as possible if she were going to live. Placing the towel on the wounds, he pressed down hard and reached over, grabbing Amanda's hands and forcefully shoving them down on the towel "You need to hold this here and put all your pressure on it to stop the bleeding. I need to find Hoffman." With Amanda applying pressure, John quickly went to the monitors and flipped every single one on to try and find out where Hoffman was hiding in the lair but after a frustrated scan he finally stopped on the monitor to the room Hoffman was being tested in…and there he was. He was lying in the middle of the floor, obviously still alive cause he was moving slowly but horribly battered - he had taken a beating in this trap and obviously managed to figure it out enough to win. Although Hoffman had many injuries, John had intended for him to suffer and understand to appreciate others lives as well as his own, so dealing with him would have to wait - it was what he had to deal with now that upset him the most. His fist was clenched and in spite of himself he slammed it down on the table in a fit of anger, lips tightly pursed together as he realized it was Michelle that inflicted that injury on herself…she wanted to die, she tried to kill herself and over what? John's questions would have to wait because there was a strong chance she wouldn't even live through the night at this rate.

John stepped into the room, kneeling down again and looked at her one more time before looking to Amanda "Thank you. Now come with me." Gently, in spite of his anger, John lifted Michelle into his arms, her blood soaking the front of his shirt with ease and dripping down to the floor below, but all the same he carried her into a room he had reserved for when his cancer got the better of him and he would need her to care for him - guess the roles were reversed now. He laid her down on the gurney and proceeded to strap both her wrists and ankles down before moving back over to her and taking another look at the wound. John disappeared and Jigsaw took hold fast, fingers tracing the lines of the wounds almost in a mesmerizing fashion before, in spite of himself, he slowly drug his hand up delicate, soft skin all the way to her face. There he stopped for a bit, pushing blood soaked strands of hair from her face, fingers trailing down her cheek leaving trails of blood as they went. Something about the gruesome nature of her behavior fascinated him while at the same time made him sick - sick of how easily she threw away the second chance at life he offered. Grabbing a needle and some other necessary materials, he asked Amanda to assist and get him some alcohol in a syringe, taking it from her when it was filled and squeezing it in and all over the wounds. She must have felt some kind of pain as she flinched weakly in response on the table, but her eyes never opened - she was trapped in a world of darkness she created for herself. Just like with his traps, John took care in being as precise as possible with his stitch job, sewing up each individual cut and ensuring that the bleeding had stopped even though she could still be bleeding internally unfortunately. Once he finished with the last stitch, with bloodied hands he tied off the end and set the needle aside, placing his hands on the side of the table and not once did he look at Amanda the entire time "That's all Amanda, thank you. She'll be lucky to live through the night."

When Amanda exited the room, John hooked up the heart rate monitor he had, the very slow beeping an even more precise visual picture of the extent to which she wished to end her life. Whatever caused it, Jigsaw wanted desperately to know and she would surely learn very quickly how angry she could make Jigsaw by taking his offers for granted. Closing his eyes for a minute he sighed and got a bowl of warm water and a cloth, wiping the blood from her face and everywhere else on her body and for a good 30 minutes he just stared at her lying there, occasionally looking at the heart rate monitor and listening to the sound of it beeping in response to what little life she had left. If only he had been just a few minutes later…he didn't want to think about that right now. In spite of himself, the situation invoked emotions in him he hadn't really expressed towards anyone in a very long time and John found himself reaching over and taking her hand in his own, squeezing it tightly "…what were you thinking? How could you do this to yourself…to _me_?" He squeezed even harder before sighing and letting go, running a hand over his face and leaning back in the chair in the room - tonight John would not sleep as he waited to see if she would flat line tonight or manage to live to fight another day.


	27. Every Piece Has it's Puzzle

_Leave me at the bottom, I am lost forever. Letters from the dead say goodbye. Sorrow falls upon us, this will be the last time. Days begin to end but I'll get by. Follow the hopeless and shut your eyes. All will be abandoned, none will shine. Gather the broken and leave this life. Lying in the earth, side by side. Into the nothing, faded and weary, I won't leave and let you fall behind. __**Live for the dying, heaven hear me**__. I know we can make it out alive._

John awoke in the morning to the sound of a heart rate monitor beeping slow and steady - she made it through the night but not without struggle; many times John had to stop the flat lining and bring her back to life because he wasn't about to let her go out that easily. He sat up in the chair and ran a hand over his face, trying to wake up but before he could stand a violent coughing fit took over and he doubled over in pain, spitting out a small quantity of blood into the sink he managed to get to. John's cancer was getting more aggressive but John had work to do and especially at this juncture - he had to continue on with this, she was his project, not Amanda's. Hmm, Hoffman, John still had to take care of that matter and see if the detective managed to not bleed out, but at the moment he needed to find something for a transfusion for the girl on the bed. He didn't know her blood type, but at this juncture John figured any life saving liquid would be better then nothing at all - without some form of replenishment she would recover much slower then John had time for and he had questions that needed answering. Being that John was Jigsaw he had plenty of what he needed and quickly hooked up a bag, tapping her arm in search of a proper vein which at this juncture would be hard to find but he did, slowly slipping the needle in. He watched as her fingers flexed in response and she attempted to move her arm, but didn't seem to have the energy to fight. Once he was finished he checked her over once more before leaving the room and grabbing Amanda to assist him with the detective.

It would be a week that passed before she made any significant progress in her recovery. At this juncture her eyes were open but she was too weak and tired to do anything but go back to sleep as quickly as she would awaken - often times closing her eyes drowned out the sights of herself hooked up to machines and the scowl that John seemed unable to fend off every time he looked at her. Her heart rate had returned to normal and she wasn't nearly as pale as she was before, but the pain was agonizing - she would have preferred death at this juncture. She couldn't sit up due to being strapped down which frightened her more then anything because she was in Jigsaw's lair now at his mercy for trying to kill herself…oh this wasn't going to turn out well. In spite of her discomfort, she couldn't help but notice that John was still taking care of her but why he would do that was beyond her and he more then likely wouldn't offer an answer. Today she managed to stay awake longer then she expected, looking around the room in a haze before looking down to the restraints holding her wrists. She pulled, but not nearly as forcefully as she could before, wincing as her stomach muscle contracted in response to her fidgeting. Every breath felt like an eternity had passed her by before the last, painful to undergo but necessary. She hadn't anticipated not being dead when John found her, in fact it was the last thing she imagined would happen, but unfortunately her plan backfired on her…what was she thinking anyway?

John entered the room, for a few moments just watching her until he saw her gaze turn to him and just as quickly turn away - that's right, you should be ashamed of yourself. John slowly made his way over to her, taking hold of the blanket and pulling it down, watching her flinch involuntarily - she was high alert and it appeared frightened. He ignored her physical response to him at the time and looked down to the healing wounds; they were deep and it would take quite some time for them to heal completely. He ran his fingers over them, tracing them and all the while she flinched and trembled, Jigsaw getting some sort of sick satisfaction out of watching her anticipate the unknown fearfully. He sighed and reached down, removing the straps from her wrists and ankles, one by one, slowly, tediously before he summoned all his strength and lifted her from the bed. He felt her grip his shirt in response and John placed her feet down on the floor to see if she could manage to stand on her own, but she buckled immediately due to the pain and yelped. John had a tight hold on her, so she didn't fall to the floor, but he was going to force her to overcome this, draping one of her arms over his neck and supporting her back, he started to walk. Good girl, she began slowly trying to walk, cringing with every step but he had no pity on her since she did this to herself - the only thing John pitied was the fact that she failed in her quest for suicide and now she had to pay the price. In fact, the thought of her learning her lesson the hard way bothered John due to his attachment to her throughout this time; he thought she would be different, he thought she would thrive and not buckle under the pressure like the other two…what a pity. John walked slowly as the young woman shuffled next to him, struggling with each step. John finally got her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet and watching her as she collapsed against the wall, her eyes closing and her breathing heavy. She stretched a hand weakly to the stitched cuts in her stomach, brushing her fingers against them. John finally had the bath of luke warm water run that she desperately needed - she was still covered in dried, caked blood from her endeavor and while she was recovering enough to handle the next step of John's plans for her, he intended for her to be somewhat comfortable. He helped her stand before removing her shorts and lifting her into the tub, setting her down. Her fingers suddenly latched aggressively into his shirt and he reached up, pulling her hand away with ease "Stop. You did this to yourself, now I'm not going to hurt you." He could tell she didn't quite believe him this time.

She sat up in the bed, silently, staring at her hands as a tear ran down her cheek. She was now clean, dressed in warmer clothes and finally sitting up in a resting position but she wasn't comfortable in the least. John spent the past hour reprimanding her, yelling at her - he was furious and she was embarrassed by her actions and somehow she didn't understand why she was even more upset about how angry he was with her. Right now he sat in the chair in the room, his elbow resting on the arm rest and a finger to his mouth, looking at her as if trying to contemplate what to do with her next. She closed her eyes and a stream of tears escaped, cascading onto the sheets beneath her, John unmoving as he watched her. She finally stopped wringing her hands, placing them in her lap and bit her bottom lip briefly before tilting her head back and blinking to ward off the tears, to stop the stupid crying that was overwhelming her "…I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can say…" Eyes brimming with tears turned to look directly at him but he said nothing, simply shook his head and sighed.

Standing from his seat in the room, John slowly approached the frail creature before him. John may have had pity on her, but Jigsaw had little; only disappointment. He got to the edge of her bed and leaned in, looking directly into her eyes as he did so "…you were given a chance that you failed to take to heart. Look at you now, look where you are. Do not think you will walk away from this untested. I believed in you and you, without care, destroyed my faith and trust. I'm willing to forgive you, but there is a price to pay." The tone of his voice was low and husky and he could see the fear flash in her eyes as she leaned back away from him just a bit. "You wanted to die that badly, huh? Cause you are such a monster, turned into one? I'll give you a reason to cry." he left the room, realizing how angry he was getting with her which wouldn't help the situation. The sheer terror on her face after what he just said was indication enough that he got through to her. John hated to do this, he didn't want to make her go through this again but she made her choice and it was hers to make in the first place. Sitting down at his desk he pulled out a few pieces of paper that he had started working on only to stop, realizing he had written her name all over them as if in a frantic trance when he did it. He looked over at the bed where she used to sleep in his room and sighed - this was what needed to be done, he had a lesson to teach whether he wanted her to die or not. He only hoped she would want to live if not for herself, for him. He pressed the pencil down to the paper and began drawing, finishing up a very important piece of work.


	28. Things Are Not Always What They Seem

_Always always always always always I just can't live without you. I love you, I hate you, I can't get around you. I breathe you, I taste you, I can't live without you. I just can't take anymore this life of solitude. I guess that I'm out the door and now I'm done with you. I love you, I hate you, I can't live without you. I wrap my head around your heart. Why would you tear my world apart? Always, always, always, always. I see the blood all over your hands does it make you feel more like a man? Was it all just a part of your plan? The pistol's shaking in my hands and all I hear is the sound…_

Slender, delicate fingers trailed lightly over the exposed wounds on her stomach that were soon to be free of their stitches. The sensation gave her chills and made her slightly nauseous due to the tenderness of the injury that probably would never change at this juncture - she had no one to blame but herself for this self inflicted mutilation. Since the events of that night she was living in a hospital bed, alone every single night void of her conversations and the companionship of another person - scratch that, there were nights of conversations but they often left her in tears because of John's yelling and extending the obvious to her. She could understand his anger at her taking his "chance" for granted, but she didn't understand the emotions that even John himself was having trouble sorting through.

John sat at his desk, pencil tapping lazily on the paper as Amanda entered and handed him a glass of water to drink. He smiled at her as she exited the room, waiting for her to leave before he pulled the papers hidden under the stack out from their hiding place and looked over them again. He had spent the past few days alone, refusing any help from Amanda and refusing any sort of companionship - he had a lot on his plate to accomplish in a short period of time. As for detective Hoffman, he was indeed alive after his test and currently was recovering in the hospital under the guise that he escaped a Jigsaw trap with no knowledge of where he was. He and John had a long discussion about what had happened, what he had done, and although John still felt as though he couldn't trust him he could at least use his help in the future. Getting up from his desk, he sighed and shook his head before walking through the lair to the room he had isolated Michelle simply because she was a danger to herself at this point and a danger to Jigsaw's ability to work avidly on something of grave importance. When he entered the room he stood in the doorway. She was just sitting there staring off into space, but at least she had been sitting up a great portion of the day and she seemed to be able to function normally.

She looked up as he entered the room, hazel eyes watching him carefully, cautiously as if trying to read him but she had completely lost her mind that night and with it all the abilities she had to decipher people and their behaviors - it was a damn shame, she felt so weak and feeble now. Finally he moved and she followed his every move through the room with her eyes, not saying a single word considering lately when she would speak it would only serve to frustrate him.

John's fingers trailed over a pair of scissors for a moment before he picked them up and turned to her. He saw the look in her eyes and if it weren't for what she did, John would have been the first to embrace the confused and sorrowful young woman before him, but no, he could not falter. If he did, he would no longer have the right to say he gave everyone a chance and made it fair - there was no special treatment for anyone in Jigsaw's life. "Lay down, we'll get those stitches out." as he spoke he felt a tinge of regret creeping up but it was unavoidable because what was about to happen was, well, not okay with him but necessary. As she laid down cautiously he walked over, grabbing the straps and suddenly strapping her down to the table. He watched her eyes widen before he saw her start to shake just a bit.

"…wait…" her request would go unheard as John took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, tilting his head to the side, securing the last strap. "No. I'm sorry it has to be this way. This hurts me more then it ever will you."

"John…please, I'm sorry…oh god, don't do this…I can't do this…I can't…" she closed her eyes and struggled against the restraints finally having some strength back, but not nearly enough to free herself. Her back arched and her head tilted back as John set the scissors down and walked over to the table beside the bed, opening the drawer to remove the needle. Her head snapped to the side to see him pull it out before she started to frantically plead with him.

"Shhh." it was the only comfort he would offer her as he moved the hair away from her neck and injected the tranquilizer. As he removed it he watched her fight against her restraints before slowing down and then slumping, unmoving onto the bed. "I didn't want it to come to this." he unbuckled the restraints before picking up the scissors and lifting her shirt to examine the stitched wounds, taking his time to carefully remove each one before all that was left were the painful reminders she would live with for what remained of her life. His fingers touched the raised scars before he pulled her shirt back down and looked over at her face, his hands now resting on her arm. All he saw was a single tear run down her cheek and reached over, catching it on his finger. For a few moments John fought back his own emotional attachment to this girl before placing a hand on her forehead and pushing her hair back, stroking her face almost tenderly "I don't know how much life you have left in you, but just remember that someone did and always will care for you. That person…is me."

_Why didn't she tell me where to go tonight? She didn't say a word, she just walked away. You were the first to say that we were not okay. You were the first to lie when we were not alright. This was my first love, she was the first to go. And when she left me for you I was the last to know._


	29. Game Over

_I'll be the first to say that now I'm okay. And for the first time I've opened up my eyes. This was my worst love, you'll be the first to go. And when she leaves you for dead, you'll be the last to know._

Water dripped from the pipes above her head onto her unconscious and slowly waking body, rats squeaked as they scurried frantically across the ground, and a single roach crawled across her back as it hurried to the wall behind her. She groaned as she slowly started to regain consciousness, hands sliding across the floor in puddles of water. Her eyes opened slowly, her face still pressed to the floor in a puddle of the rustiest water mankind could have seen. She coughed as it got into her mouth, sliding her hands underneath of her body and painfully pushed herself into a sitting position. As she did so she noted the clinking of chains as she moved and felt a strange pressure against her neck. Reaching up, fingers brushed against cold metal clamped around her neck before trailing down to a lock. She was still a bit delirious but more then aware of the fact that there was some kind of collar around her neck not to mention the cuffs clamped around her wrists. Sitting back against the wall, she tilted her head back and placed her hands over her face, sliding them down slowly to stare at the one light swinging in the room above her head, blinking and buzzing before it popped. The loud pop caused her to squeak and startle, covering her head as the glass from the shattered bulb fell onto her head. Moving her hands away, she couldn't mistake the sound of the buzzing as fluorescent lights popped on, above a TV sitting in the corner. "Oh shit…no no no…" she put her face in her hands and bit back to the tears - she only had herself to thank for this moment. Normally someone finding themselves in another one of Jigsaw's traps would more then likely search for the solutions right away, but instead she hung her head, not even having the heart to want to value her own life and live through this.

The TV flashed on, her head slowly rose to stare at the face of Billy once again. "I do not feel it necessary to explain to you why you're here Michelle. In fact you should know that due to your inability to value your life you are here. I am giving you a second chance to prove to me that you value your life however your suicidal desire is more then likely taking over at this juncture. Be assured, I have made sure that it's not that easy to give up and remove yourself permanently from this situation. Each one of the restraints on your wrists and around your neck have their own key. Before you are three boxes containing the keys necessary to unlock them. In each box is a different obstacle of your own obsessions to overcome: the drugs you did to drown out your life, razorwire symbolic of your cutting yourself till you almost bled to death, and acid symbolizing your volatile behavior, burning those that wish to hold you close." Spot lights illuminated each box and she felt her stomach churn but still there was little response from her - it was like she resolved herself to own death. "In front of you are 6 hand guns, each with one bullet in the chamber. They are attached to wheel that will spin throughout the game, randomly firing off each gun. Behind you the chains that bind you are attached to gears that will pull the chains in as each gun fires, leaving you helpless to take a bullet. The shotgun in the middle will fire at the end of the timer, subsequently giving you what you wanted so desperately. Will you gather the keys in time to prevent yourself from dying or will you allow yourself to simply suffer through your own death? Stabbing yourself was so much easier, wasn't it? Now I give you the choice…live for me or die for yourself." As the TV buzzed off she could suddenly feel the hysterics taking over - she was going to get shot repeatedly and eventually execution style; did she really want to suffer like that? She dropped her head into her hands and screamed before looking up at the camera in the corner of the room and although she knew he didn't hear her, she just wanted to speak her mind "FUCK YOU!! I don't want to die like this! Do you hear me?!"

The buzzing of the clock startled her and she turned quickly to see she only had 10 minutes to get herself out of this trap. She turned her attention back to the boxes in the middle of the room, noting that the keys in the acid were more then likely deteriorating and would have to be retrieved first. The wheel the guns were on clicked to life and started to spin, slowly, meticulously and she flinched before she quickly and very painfully pushed herself to a stand and started to rush towards the box of acid. Her stomach twisted in knots as the pain from her stab wounds seeped into her consciousness and she collapsed in the middle of the room briefly before quickly getting up. Stumbling over to the box of acid, she closed her eyes and plunged her hand into the acid, screaming as it burned her skin, her fingers aching and having trouble clenching around the key sitting in the bottom. She finally managed to grab it, yanking her hand out and fell to the floor, clutching her hand close to her chest and rocking back and forth as she screamed. She had dropped the key in the process and reached down to grab it before she heard a click from the pulley on the chains behind the wall kick into operation. She tried to grab the key but flailed as she was violently yanked back against the wall, slamming into it and wincing. Her eyes opened in enough time to hear the sound of a gun firing before she felt a shark pain in her shoulder. She screamed and threw her head back, reaching up and grabbing her shoulder, collapsing to the floor as the chains released. She dropped her head and just sat there, tears hitting the floor in unison with the blood seeping between her fingers from the wound in her shoulder. It was agonizingly painful and she could hardly move her arm now. She sat there so long that once again she heard the pulley system kick on, forcing her back to the wall and restraining her as the second gun fired, sending a bullet just above her breast bone. That one took her breath away and she gasped, hitting the floor again as the chains loosened. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!! I'm so fucking sorry!!! I want to LIVE!" she forced herself up quickly and rushed towards the boxes, stumbling along the way but finding a strange strength from the rush of adrenaline. She got to the box of needles and plunged her hand into it, screaming as they dug into her skin before yanking out the key and with shaky hands, tried it in each lock before it unlocked her right wrist. She quickly crawled to the key on the floor in front of the acid box and tried it on her left wrist, unlocking the restraint. On her scramble towards the box of razorwire, the system clicked on and she almost choked as it drug her backwards against the wall. She reached up, clawing at the collar frantically and gasping as the third gun went off, the bullet piercing her left thigh. Screaming like an animal being attacked, she fell to the floor, now finding it even hard to function. One arm didn't want to move without pain, the pain in her stomach was causing her to double over, and now she couldn't walk on one leg without excruciating pain…was she going to die here in this room, like this? She didn't want to die like this, she didn't want to die.

In the other room John watched intently every move of his subject, Amanda beside him as he did so watching herself. She looked over at him as she heard a blood curdling scream come from the young woman down the hallway and saw one single tear run down John Kramer's cheek as he watched the monitor. Everything went quiet shortly afterwards in Jigsaw's lair. The game…was finally over.


	30. Finale

_She's hot, can't stop, up on stage doing shots. Tip the man he'll ring the bell, get her drunk she'll scream like hell. Dirty girl getting down, dance with guys from outta town. Grab her ass, acting touch, mess with her she'll fuck you up__…_

The music thumped through the club as blondes, brunettes, and red heads danced in the middle of the room. Girls picked up whatever guy was closest but when your out with beer goggles on, the high standards fizzle away quickly. Everyone was bumping and grinding, hitting on strangers, and getting shit-faced but so was the typical pace of this club…oh and lets not forget the random make-out sessions in any available corner of the room.

Steve and his friend Michael sat at the end of the bar, currently tag-teaming a cute little blonde who was three sheets to the wind and completely unaware of her surroundings. Steve leaned in and brushed his fingers against her arm lightly, smirking as she giggled and playfully shoved him. Everything was working according to plan until her three girlfriends who weren't nearly as trashed as her came up, grabbing her arm and pulling her from the chair. "Come on Brittany, you need to get home. Sorry boys, funs over. Go spit your shit at some girl who will believe you." They threw their hands up in the boy's faces before pulling their girlfriend to them and helping walk her away from the bar and through the crowd.

"Fuck man. What the hell? It's never been this fucking hard." Michael grabbed a shot off the bar and slammed it before slamming the glass onto the countertop for the bartender to give him another one. He was frustrated that all their hard work just walked out the two with three of the biggest bitches he had ever met.

"Easy man, we'll get one. It's not that fucking hard, we've been doing this for 5 years, come on now. There's gotta be an easy target floating around in here." Steve scanned the crowd looking for an unsuspecting girl and once he spotted a cute little brunette he slid off the bar stool and motioned to his friend to watch him before heading in her direction. He lasted only 2 minutes before she blew him off and quickly retreated into the crowd, Steve flipping her off as she left and shaking his head, walking over to the bar and punching the countertop before picking up his beer and taking a swig. "Christ, is everyone stuffy here? Usually we find ourselves a worthless bitch with ease. If I could walk out with a fucking syringe I would drug some bitch and drag her home and get this over with."

Michael shook his head, shooting another shot before leaning against the bar, looking out into the sea of people. "Dude, this client will be pissed if we don't deliver. Shit, he even paid us big bucks for this shit _and_ asked for a fucking red head, why the fuck are we hitting up blondes and brunettes when he had specifics?"

"Mike, a fuck's a fuck, it doesn't matter who it's with. Besides, we're gonna kill the bitch afterwards…it's a fucking snuff film so who cares what color hair the bitch has? Christ." Steve sighed and shook his head, about to give up on this place before out of the corner of his eye he caught a red head walking towards the bar…holy shit. She was everything the "customer" asked for, dark red hair, well built, and with an astounding smile. She was quickly approaching them, so Steve quickly ordered the bar tender to give him three shots as he watched her approach the counter and lean against it. Soft white skin could be seen at her mid-section, those tight leather pants and those high "fuck me" boots just screaming at him. He found himself staring a lot longer then he anticipated, Michael following suit with his mouth hanging open for a few moments…that was until she looked over at them.

She pushed strands of red hair out of her face and smirked at the two boys before ordering herself nothing more then a bottle of water. Steve quickly grabbed up the shots and squeezed between her and his friend, leaning up against her as she leaned back just a bit to look at him. "Hi there. I thought you might like to do a shot with us gorgeous. Care to?" Steve raised the shot to her and she smiled, shaking her head no at first. "Oh, come on! If not my buddy here will be upset, after all its his money I'm wasting." Michael shot Steve a dirty look and the girl laughed, finally agreeing to it and after they clicked the glasses together in a small toast, she quickly slammed it, cringing afterwards and coughing as she set the glass down. Steve laughed and placed a hand on her back, patting it gently "Ah, lightweight huh?"

"You could say that or you could say that I just haven't shot anything that strong in a long time." her voice was smooth, sensual, and something that melted both of the boys before her as she chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. "What did you say your names were?"

"Oh, we didn't, but I'm Steve and my buddy over here in Mike. And you are?" he motioned to Michael beside him who raised his glass in greeting before smirking at his buddy.

"I don't give my name out to strangers, sorry boys. That is unless you'd like to get to know me better…" she smiled a sly, sultry smile and could see the wheels turning in both of their heads as they agreed to the terms. She knew how to play their little game and she could play it just as well as they could. She sat down at the bar between the two of them and they spent the evening talking to one another, her getting more information out of them then they were getting out of her - which is just how it should be.

By the end of the night the red head was feeling the buzz of one too many drinks, making sure to nurse the last bottle of water she had in her hands. Steve leaned in, taking this as the perfect opportunity since they spent the whole night flirting and pressed his lips lightly to her own, pulling back and grinning. Mike shot him a dirty look, sighing, frustrated that it wasn't him doing this right now, but Steve really was the key part of this. After all, Steve was attractive - black hair, baby blue eyes, and one hell of a build. Michael leaned in and looked at Steve who shook his head no as the girl stared at him a bit shocked by the kiss before she suddenly reached out, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing her lips hard to his own. Bingo, they were in and had what they needed. She slid from the bar stool and slammed him up against the counter, sliding her hands into his jacket and gripping his shirt tightly. Steve pulled back, panting and smiled, motioning towards the door. "Come on sweetheart…I'll take you home and give you what you want."

"No…out the back door…right now…I'll come home but I want it **now**." Steve smirked at her forward behavior and nodded in agreement as she drug him towards the back door, Michael following quickly behind to get in on watching this escapade. She grabbed his shirt, swinging him around and slamming his back into the metal door as it swung open, both of them stumbling down the stairs to stand out in the dimly lit back of the club - classic scene with trash, graffiti on the walls, and less than desired scenery. She pushed him up against the brick wall but he quickly changed the pace of the game and pushed her back against the wall, careful not to hurt her. Their lips were locked in a heated exchange, Steve reaching down to unbutton her pants, but she slapped his hand away and brought her hands to the button of his jeans - fair enough, he didn't care how it happened.

Michael stepped off to the side, watching his buddy go to town on this gorgeous girl they were about to film being raped and then brutally beaten and killed for some sick fuck - hell all their clients were sick fucks. He reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and grabbing his lighter, fighting with it to spark. When it finally did he raised it to his lips only to be attacked from behind, struggling in silence as the assailant had their hand over his mouth before collapsing to the ground. Steve heard his buddy hit the ground and stopped for a moment, raising a hand to tell her to stop briefly as he turned around to look behind him where his friend was standing but he didn't see him at all. "Mike? Dude, what the fuck? Where are you? Oh fuck this…" he turned around to face the beautiful red head in front of him and gasped.

She jammed a hypodermic needle into his neck, depressing the plunger quickly as he grabbed her arms. He was gripping her so tightly that it hurt like hell, but soon his grip loosened and he started to sink to the ground. "By the way sweetheart…my name is Michelle." she smirked as he sunk to the floor, collapsing into a slump on the ground. She reached up and brushed her mouth off with her sleeve, shaking her head as her features turned up into an expression of disgust. She looked up to see a figure stepping out from the darkness with a pig mask, reaching up to remove it exposing the face of John Kramer also known as Jigsaw. He looked down at the motionless body on the ground and then to her, frowning a bit. "…I'm not doing that ever again for you, do you hear me?"

Her tone made him smirk and chuckle, nodding his head in agreement before he removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulder and pulling it closed. She looked at the cloak and then looked at him curiously, shaking her head before he reached up and brushed strands of red hair from her face "…this color suits you well you know."

She shook her head and smiled before leaning down and grabbing the legs of the man, John grabbing his arms and they carried him off into the darkness…no one aware of what had just happened and none the wiser about who the mysterious red head was.

_Tonight my head is spinning. I need something to pick me up. I've tried but nothing is working. I won't stop, I won't say I've had enough. Tonight I start the fire, tonight I break away. __**Break**__ away from everybody. __**Break**__ away from everything. If you can't stand the way this place is take yourself to higher places. At night I feel like a vampire. It's not right but I just can't give it up. I'll try to get myself higher, let's go we're gonna light it up. Tonight we start the fire, tonight we break away._

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**Well there you go, the end of a very long fiction that took a long time to think about and plan out before it was actually written. I hope everyone enjoyed it and don't worry, I'll do a few side stories in relation to this story to continue with writing and perhaps another big one will follow when I get the creativity to think up something new and exciting. Please rate and review if you have yet to, I would love to have everyone's input.**


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